#it's always comforting when fiction allows you this sort of things

[asidian]

One thing I haven't seen talked about is Crystal's character arc, and specifically the way the timing of it interacts with Charles' arc. They stumble over each other in the worst possible way en route to their respective character growth, and from a narrative perspective, it's absolutely genius.

I'm going to preface all this by saying: none of this is a criticism of Crystal. Part of what makes her such a dynamic, refreshing character is that you don't get to see women in fiction written the way she's been written. You don't get to see women with her flaws that aren't throw-away mean girls or villains. You especially don't get to see women with her traits who learn and grow and become better people. So yeah, I'm going to talk about Crystal's character flaws. No, this isn't Crystal hate. We love our girl in this house. Okay? Okay. Let's start.

Crystal's character arc, at its heart, is all about her learning to be a better person because she has good influences that love and support her for the first time.

When the show starts, Crystal is not a nice person. She's abrasive in a way that's specifically designed to push people away. She's used to getting her own way, and it shows. She's used to having no meaningful connections with anyone, and it shows. She's breathtakingly selfish, in the very literal sense of the definition. She is focused on her self. Her problems are front and center to her; everything is about what she needs, and what she wants, and how she's struggling.

Jenny calls her out very early on. In episode one, Crystal is complaining about the boys, and Jenny, for all her cynicism, strikes right at the heart of the problem. She tells Crystal, "Everybody is always thinking about themselves, all the time." People only care about their own problems. And she says, correctly, that that's what Crystal is doing, too.

This moment is a revelation for Crystal. For the first time, she considers what her behavior looks like from another person's perspective. As she says, she gets mad at herself over it, and that awareness allows her to do something selfless for the first time in the series. She takes a step back and insists that instead of focusing on her problems, they go to help a little girl. It's a big moment for her.

But importantly, she's not done growing as a character here. She's only just getting started.

On my first watch through, I didn't realize how often, over the next few episodes, Crystal redirects things to her problems during conversation, but it's quite a lot. She's still focused on herself – selfish, in that most literal definition of the word. The issues most important to her are her issues. She's starting to learn to think about other people, but she's not there yet. The process is still underway.

Which brings us to Charles.

Charles' arc is a different sort of self-reflection. He's terrified that he's a bad person the way his father was and the way the boys that killed him were.

During the course of the show, he gets systematically stripped of his confidence and made to feel helpless, and just like Crystal needs outside influences to help her reach a more stable place, Charles does, too. He desperately needs reassurance that he isn't everything he's afraid he is.

But my goodness, the timing in their arcs is such a trainwreck when you put them together, and it is brilliant.

Let's start with the Devlin House.

Crystal has some amazing character growth here. She displays genuine concern about Charles, makes an attempt at comforting him, and learns to work with Edwin even though she still doesn't particularly like him at this point.

Charles, meanwhile, is beginning to fall apart. He's just had the worst night of his afterlife. He's been viscerally reminded of how helpless he is. He couldn't stop the Devlins from being killed over and over, just like he couldn't stop his own father's abuse. He messed up his attempted rescue so badly that he was completely out of commission until the case was finished. He managed to help not one single thing. He made no impact at all. He couldn't help those girls any more than he was able to help himself, while he was still alive.

So they get back to the butcher shop, and what do we see? Monty immediately coopts Edwin. Niko doesn't know what's happened because she wasn't there and Charles has been all fake smiles with her. And Crystal goes off with Niko, leaving Charles to flounder on his own in the wake of everything. She's still learning how to support other people. She isn't there yet, and it's extremely on display in this moment.

Then we get the lighthouse episode, and they both get put through the wringer here. Crystal gets her hopes and expectations jerked around by the Night Nurse in the very worst way, and Charles gets hit with a whole pile full of trauma. All that helplessness wells to the forefront again. Combined with being forced to relive some of his worst memories and the desperation to keep Edwin safe from hell, Charles lets himself act on his anger for once.

And what does he get in the aftermath? Horror.

Everyone who cares about him is horrified by what he's done. Edwin goes so far as to call it extreme. They don't know the half of it, of course; they haven't seen what the Night Nurse just put him through. But in this moment Charles is at his absolute lowest, and all he sees is confirmation that he's exactly as terrible as he thinks he is.

That's why Charles shrugs off Edwin's attempt at comfort, here. When he needed to be able to do something to protect Edwin and also himself – when he needed to believe that he could be better than what his father always was – all he sees is the confirmation from the people he cares about most that when push came to shove, he really is a bad guy.

Then comes the aftermath. And this moment is such a brilliant, awful clash of both of their character arcs. It is so delightfully messy.

Because Charles starts to open up to Crystal here. He starts to lay himself bare, the way he ends up doing with Edwin in episode 5. He's on the verge of admitting something that he's been worried about for literal decades. He tells her, "I've been angry for such a long time."

And what does Crystal do? She's still in the midst of her own character growth. She's still struggling to support other people. She's still learning how to. In a lot of ways, though she's made progress already, she's still that selfish girl that Jenny called out in the very first episode.

And she shows it here it with the absolute worst possible timing. No sooner has Charles started to talk about what's bothering him than she cuts in with her own problems. She's tired of riddles and spirits and demons and not knowing who she is. And the look on Charles' face. The moment when he visibly sets aside his own problems, because Crystal doesn't need any more disasters on her plate? It's heartbreaking. You can actually track the subtle change in his expression there. The actor does a phenomenal job.

And then comes the kiss. And what spurs it? Crystal saying she needs something real.

This moment isn't about light-hearted attraction, the way the earlier flirting is. It's Charles setting aside what he needs – comfort and reassurance and a moment to talk through the things that have been tearing him apart – to give her what she says she wants. He can't even feel it. And Crystal isn't far enough along in her character growth here to realize how selfish she's being. Like Jenny said way back in episode one, she's only thinking about herself.

And then comes the absolute unmitigated disaster of episode 5.

Straight out the gate, Charles leans in for a kiss. From his perspective, they have something together; there's affection there. Charles "I think I'd miss kissing" Rowland, who has been starved for meaningful physical contact for thirty years, is not in a hurry to give this up.

But Crystal is fresh out of a nightmare where she conflates Charles with her abusive ex. She withdraws; she calls what they had a distraction. She cuts it off almost as soon as it's started, so focused on her own worries here that she misses how damn fake Charles' smile is, to cover up that he's coming to pieces.

To be clear, she's absolutely not in the wrong here. It is 1000% her prerogative not to jump into a relationship again while she's still struggling to work through what happened with David. But the arc of her narrative is still early enough that she does it all without so much as the awareness that her focus on her own issues has hurt Charles terribly.

And then the episode really kicks off, and both of them are in shambles in very different ways.

Crystal is projecting her issues with David onto Charles. She has a lot of history, and David seems as though he's exactly the right sort of toxic to leave lasting a lasting impact. But Charles hasn't done anything to deserve her assumptions, and he takes the brunt of her temper here and throughout the episode.

Charles is desperately projecting onto the dead jocks. He very badly wants them to be good guys, because he sees himself in them and he needs himself to be a good guy. He snipes back at Crystal for the very first time in this episode, and he does it in the worst way possible, accidentally prodding her where it will do the most damage.

They're both hurting. They both say some truly painful things to one another.

She does not need to hear that she has unsorted hangups about David still plaguing her while she's unable to move past them. He desperately does not need anyone to tell him that he has rage issues while he's still struggling to think of himself as a decent person.

They apologize, in the end. They start to move past it.

But it's telling that Charles doesn't try to open up to Crystal again. He goes to Edwin instead, even though Edwin is the one who called his actions regarding the Night Nurse extreme. He gets the reassurance he needs so badly; he gets the connection he was looking for with Crystal from Edwin, instead. (I have a lot of thoughts on why Charles initially tries to open up to Crystal so quickly, but it is very much an aside, and this is already extremely long, so it will have to wait for another write-up.)

But the important thing here is, Edwin is the one to offer Charles what he needs to overcome the self-doubt eating him alive. Edwin provides the physical affection Charles was seeking in the form of that long-overdue hug. Edwin is the one who's able to reaffirm for him that he's not just a good guy, he's the best person Edwin knows.

And for all intents and purposes, Charles' major character arc ends here.

Charles has a few last little moments to go on the path to rebuilding his own self-image, after this, but for the most part his concerns have been resolved. He saves Crystal in episode 6 and Edwin in episode 7, proving to himself that he's able to make a difference in the face of overwhelming odds. He's not helpless, no matter what the Night Nurse told him; he can be a force for good in the world. By the end of the series, his crisis of self-doubt seems to have been largely overcome.

But it's the conversation with Edwin at the end of episode 5 that really allows him to work through his most pressing issues. Edwin is there to help support him when he stumbles. Edwin provides him the comfort he was looking for while Crystal was too worried about her own problems to notice how badly he needed the help.

Crystal, meanwhile, still has a ways to go after episode 5. The last three episodes are where she does her most important character growth.

In episode 6, she learns some hard lessons about keeping secrets and letting people help and appreciate you even when you can't offer them anything in return. And Charles, importantly, is there for her every step of the way. He consistently offers her physical and emotional support. He models for her, in a very real way, what it looks like to have someone prop you up when you need the help.

And in turn, Crystal steps in to save the boys. She's the big damn hero at the end of this episode.

The breakthrough continues into episode 7. She's so intent on helping to get Edwin out of hell that she literally goes to face her own demons, not for herself for once – not for her own purposes or needs or wants – but because she wants to help someone else.

And episode 8, at long last, brings her to the culmination of her character arc.

Crystal is at her absolute lowest here. Her family, the people who were supposed to love her unconditionally, didn't even realize she was gone. Her precious memories, that she's spent the entire series trying to regain, have showed her that she's not the person she hoped she would be. She's overwhelmed enough that she means to flee, to cut herself off from her new friends entirely.

Then the boys get kidnapped. And just like that, she makes up her mind.

For the first time since the start of the series, she sets aside her most important issues in order to let what other people need take precedence. She disregards all of her own personal concerns and focuses instead on others. She's finally stepped out of those selfish impulses that Jenny calls her out on, all the way back in the first episode. She's finally learned how to support other people when they need it.

Crystal has finally figured out how to be there for others, despite having troubles of her own.

It's a lovely arc, and it's beautifully done.

Charles' is just as touching.

And god damn, but it was a brilliant narrative choice to have their character arcs line up in exactly the wrong way.

[rheakira]

I've come to temporarily break my hiatus to bring up something deeply important. Because after a recent event, if I have to go another day without talking about it, I don't know what I'll do.

Fandoms have an enormous issue when it comes to bigotry and people feeling comfortable enough to be openly bigoted.

And I want to make it clear: everyone is capable of it. In fact, most people do it more often than they don't. But because this strange myth has been built up that if you aren't "blatantly saying slurs" or "killing others" it can't possibly be bigotry, we have done nothing but become dangerous behind closed doors.

If your friend has odd beef with a person of color in the fandom and holds them to standards they don't hold their white friends to, that is bigotry. If your friend feels some sort of way about the trans person in your friend group and tries to come up with reasons for why they specifically can't stay, that is also bigotry. If your group insists that a person with a personality disorder is making it up just for attention and uses that as a reason for why they can't be around them, that is bigotry as well.

I've never been upfront about it because... why do I, as a human being, need to be upfront about my identity when people randomly decide what I am? But I am in fact a person of color who is queer and disabled. Whenever I join a fandom group that is mostly white people, I am liked until this is discovered. And then I watch as people get brutal about things I do or say. Things that they don't do to other people in the group, and I also watch as they take my words and either twist them for convenience or ruin my reputation for it.

As a marginalized person, both in fandom and out, you are held to a unique standard that does not apply to other human beings around you. It makes doing what you love very difficult, because unfortunately as a marginalized person, people will always subconsciously side with the person trying to oppress or attack you. This has happened to me my entire life, from school to work spaces to even internet spaces claiming to be safe places.

People will say that they care about you and like you and even form a friendly bond with you, but the moment a person of privilege decides they do not like you very much, they can and will side with the other person even without proof of their issues with you. It's exhausting and ruins lives in places that should be fun and safe.

I am on my umpteenth experience with this exact cycle and I would be lying if I said it didn't make me feel like I couldn't live or breath in places I should be allowed to be involved in. It's a very real problem that refuses to end because no one has the courage to challenge it. I am speaking not only on my own experiences, but for the many other people of color or queers or disabled people who simply cannot join these so called "safe spaces" because of our identities conflicting with people who have been taught that we are lesser and not worth love or care.

If this is a problem you face, please know that I see you and I love you. It's hard to keep surviving in a world that wants to hurt you and leaves you abandoned and alone. I want you to know that the world is scary, but we all exist. You should be allowed to experience joy and fun without feeling like you're being suffocated and wanting to die.

You matter. The people around you that make you feel like you don't are nothing by comparison. You matter and I truly hope that we'll one day find each other and become the safe space that we deserve.

The marginalized people in your fandom are more important than your fictional characters and plotlines that you put above us. We're here and we're not leaving. Learn to live with us and protect us.

If we're truly your friends, you would care when your privileged "friends" want to remove us.

Additionally, please do not take this rant and make it only about white people who are part of these marginalized categories. This is a post about EVERYONE. Including the people of color around you. Do not remove us from this conversation. Care about ALL OF US if you support this at all. Thank you.

[oimitocat]

MIND ME | HC

txt ot5 (separately) x gn!reader

reacting to reader with dark/trauma humor + implied past suicidal tendencies + implied past trauma + coping with humor + therapy sessions + idol au! + implied eating disorders

a/n: literally fair warning, if you can’t handle it, move on. this is fiction but with real life tendencies.

—HUENING KAI

one day you had to do your therapy session over the phone due to your busy schedule. kai had come in to sit with you as your session was close to an end. the basic “see you next time, call me if you need to chat or have questions” thing goes on and then you hang up.

he’s comfortable in your bed, you crawl in to cuddle with him.

“anything new?” he asks, he’s always so caring, so tender.

“nah.” then you pause, smiling.

“what is it?” he asks, “why are you smiling?”

you shake your head, “just remembered this joke i made to my therapist.”

“a joke?” he asks, curious.

you watch him, smiling at the mess of his hair. “so like, i use to self harm-“ his eyes widen a bit, yet he quickly fixes his expression, “-and so she asked if i still do it and i joked and said ‘no i have alcohol now’…” you sigh, “she didn’t laugh.”

and you bust out laughing when kai purses his lips, unsure if he should cry or find it funny either.

“y/n!”

“kai! i don’t drink! be for real!” you cackle as your cuddle him, easing his worries.

—CHOI BEOMGYU

“y/n, do you want to stay with me and keep practicing?”

“what? you’re saying i suck and need to keep practicing?”

beomgyu gasps, “no! what? i just- well the step we keep messing up! we should practice it!”

“so you’re saying i’m bad at it and you’re covering it by saying we both do? great, another thing i’m bad at.”

“what’s the other thing you’re supposedly bad at!” he argues, smiling at you.

“oh it’s a long list,” you say with a grin.

“as if.”

“no for real,” you pick up your water bottle, back facing his, “killing myself is number one. apparently i’m bad at it.” you shake your head before pausing.

“what?”

“i’m joking,” you say quickly, seeing the worry in his eyes. “beomgyu.”

“ah…” he just watches you, messing with his water bottle. “am i allowed to laugh when you joke like that?”

“if you want, i don’t care. would be preferable.” you pat his back, “let’s practice yeah?”

—KANG TAEHYUN

you were watching people getting their bones popped. it’s crazy what areas can be popped to soothe the body. yet you and taehyun were cringing and laughing.

“oh- ah!” taehyun flinches, watching how they popped someone’s neck.

“dude maybe i should go get my neck snapped.”

“don’t you mean popped?” he asks, smiling at your silliness.

you shake your head, “no. i mean snapped.”

taehyun rolls his eyes, “you wanna die or something?”

“always have.” and you get a smack on the arm, to which you laugh at. he knows your joking, and that makes you feel warm.

—CHOI SOOBIN

literally you love food. sadly the industry makes you develop a decently bad relationship with it sometimes. so, one day you’re eating sweet bread and go- “shit, i’m supposed to be on a diet for our comeback.”

“huh? why?” soobin frowns. “wait, really?”

“it’s okay, i’ll just starve until then, it’ll be like this never happened.”

“y/n, what?”

you glance at him while chewing, “what?”

“why the hell would you starve?” he eyes you, “wait, what does your diet consist of then?”

“coffee and antidepressants.” you joke.

“funny.”

“i know.”

—CHOI YEONJUN

it’s a task. literally, all of you are on a reality show and you have to fill out a questionnaire or something. you’re thinking on this question.

“what’s wrong?” yeonjun asks you while beomgyu and soobin make ruckus about what their answers are.

“i’m not sure what to put.”

“y/n, it’s basic questions.”

“that’s what my therapist said and then i was diagnosed a bunch of stuff.”

“the question is literally what’s your favorite childhood memory?”

“so about that, i don’t remember cus apparently — fun fact, when you experience some sort of trauma as a kid your mind blocks any memory during that age and time. i don’t remember shit,” you whisper. “what am i supposed to put? that my mom beat me with a spoon until i finished my homework?”

he stares at you, unsure what to do with that bomb drop. he knows you cope with humor, hence, “steal one of mine then.”

“bet.”

[rentsturner]

Alex Turner boyfriend headcanons

an: I haven’t written in a really fucking long time (if head canons count as writing idk?) so apologies if these are shit or there's typos and whatnot. Many thanks to @dropofdrool for helping me proof read and organise these, it’s much appreciated <3. finally, I know Alex is a real person but this is a work of FICTION and I have approached this as if writing for a fictional character - I am making no assumptions about Alex as a real person, just in case anyone wants to come at me. thanks for reading

AT HOME

He smells like cigarettes and clean laundry

You call him Elvis to annoy him - he will sulk about it for at least an hour (or at least pretend to) until you relent and apologise

He secretly quite likes it though

Making him watch Love Island and him being so confused and slightly scared

‘Are they allowed guitars in the villa?’ ‘I would get so bored in there’

Eventually gets invested in all the drama and is hooked

Will watch it every night even if you’re not there (traitor)

You definitely get handwritten love letters left round the house (come on we’ve all seen the evidence)

eg when he goes on tour, you’ll find little notes hidden in the pocket of your jeans or in the back of your phone case

He knows so many obscure and random words that you’ve never heard of and he’ll just throw them into a conversation sometimes to annoy you

He’s always jotting lyrics in his notebook and you have to wonder if he’s writing about you

When you argue you proper argue cos neither of you likes to admit you’re wrong

You always end up sorting it out though (usually with alex buying you flowers and a good dose of make up sex)

Alex is a pro napper - he falls asleep so easy and anywhere, it’s a habit from all the time he’s spent on tour

One of his favourite things is to have a nap with you, legs tangled together, him softly snoring into your shoulder

When he wakes up his hair is all ruffled and his eyes bleary, but he’s never looked better

Both reading your books together before bed <3 (he defo has reading glasses)

Alex has tried to teach you to play guitar so many times, but it always ends in sex

Cos he thinks the best way to teach you is to put his hands over yours, and press himself right up against your back, and whisper soft praises in your ear when you don’t fumble a chord, and then he sees your soft skin just where your neck joins your shoulder and he can’t help but press open mouthed kisses there and then you’re distracted and then…

It’s obviously never going to end well

ON TOUR

Obviously he tours a lot and most of the time you will travel with him, if he’s not busy

When he comes off stage he has two moods

He will either be so hyped and take hours to calm down, like will be constantly making some form of physical contact with you (holding your hand, pressing himself against your back, forehead kisses, normal kisses, randomly grabbing your hands and dancing with you)

Or he will be really quiet and tired, you can see it in his face that the concert has just taken it out of him

Usually when he’s like this, you just sit with him backstage for a while, just the two of you, sometimes in comfortable silence or sometimes just whispering sweet nothings to him and playing with his hair

You try not to let him speak too much cos if he’s in that mood then his throat is probably feeling rough

He usually just needs an hour or two to decompress, then he’s back to his usual self, he always apologises to you after for being like that, but you don’t mind looking after him, he would do the same for you

It's sometimes hard being away for him for so long when he’s on tour

like when he’s touring the day of your anniversary

He thinks you’re at home, he facetimed you that morning and had sent your present in the post to be delivered.

However, the rest of the boys secretly fly you (along with a few of your best mates) out to the show and manage to get a place in the front pit

You bring a massive poster sign saying ‘SHEFF WEDS R SHITE’ which easily gets his attention after a few songs

He goes to shout something rude but then he sees your beaming face under the poster, he can’t believe his eyes

He goes on to play all of your favourite songs with the biggest smile on his face and literally can’t take his eyes off you the entire show

After the show you manage to get backstage to see him and he’s so happy to see you

‘You didn’t really mean what you said on the poster though, did you?’

ON HOLIDAY

Holidays all the time, Alex loves taking you away

Like when he’s touring, if you aren’t working or busy, he’ll fly you out to join him in whatever city he’s in

You’ll usually go out for lunch during the day and sit by the pool in the hotel they’re holed up in, then go and watch the concert in the evening

You see so many cities that you’d never usually go to thanks to him

When he’s not touring he loves going on adventure holidays - biking, hiking, horse riding, skiing, bungee jumping - if it involves thrills or good views, he’s down.

even if you refuse to do some of the scarier stuff, he doesn’t mind - he loves just having you there, and he needs someone to take the photos of course!

basically it would just be the dream life icl

[esoteric-joke]

Interview with Brooklyn_Babylon

(#Interview3)

Welcome to the next interview of the Dear Writer Project. This Sunday I’m here with Gina (twopoppies here on Tumblr). Thank you so much for participating and supporting my project. It was a pleasure to interview you.

Gina about her writing process, her inspirations and what she finds most challenging about writing:

What does your writing process look like?

Oh, you're going to call me out right from the get-go, huh? LOL! My writing process is that I am a complete pantser. I hate outlining and I'm not good at it (probably why I hate it). I generally get inspired by something visual and then build a story around that. The difficulty is that often, there's a concept, but there's no real story to tell. Or, I can't quite flesh it out enough to make it worth writing. But when something connects, I go bother India (indiaalphawhiskey on Tumblr) who is my beta/BFF/cheerleader and we'll talk through the story idea.

She's super helpful in terms of pushing me to think it through enough that I can write a very basic outline of what needs to happen to get from A to B. Then, I wing it. LOL!

What does writing mean to you?

From the time I was a kid, I've always been involved in doing something artistic--from fine art, to costume design, to writing, etc. I've just always needed some way to express myself, creatively. It took me a long time to get comfortable writing fiction because there are a few people in my family who are highly respected authors, and I felt I needed something of my own to sink my teeth into. But now that I've started, I realize how much I do love it (even when I hate it), and how much it allows me to dig deep into my own thoughts and emotions and be more self-aware. Beyond that, I think I'm at my most comfortable when I feel I'm helpful/supportive/nurturing. I used to write non-fiction that gave me that outlet. It's interesting that I can see those aspects in my fiction writing, as well.

Do you know before you start writing if an idea is going to become a oneshot or a longer fic?

I can generally tell if there's enough of a story to make it a chaptered fic. Sometimes the chapters just separate naturally.

Like, in An Invincible Summer, the story unfolded so that each chapter was a different month. But I had a basic idea of how I wanted the story to progress over that time period. I think, for the most part, I let the story dictate how it's going to flow.

You don’t write (or publish) as regularly as some other writers in the fandom. Why is that and would you like to write/publish more in the future?

Part of the reason is that I have a really busy life outside of the fandom (and writing). I also don't like to write just to fill up space. And I don't want to publish anything I don't think is the best I'm capable of at that moment.

On top of that, I'm just not one of those people who has a million stories in my head. I'm very visually stimulated and there are long periods of time where I just don't feel inspired. I also second-guess myself a lot and often end up shelving my WIPs. And... even when I'm inspired, I tend to write slowly. I like to take time to make sure I'm really saying what I want to say in the best way I can. I want to grow and challenge myself with each story I publish. I just don't see a point in doing it without that sort of intention.

On which of your stories did you write the longest?

I think An Invincible Summer probably took the longest. But it was also one of the easiest for me to write because the story just wrote itself in some ways. I had a much clearer picture from the start of how things were going to unfold. At the same time, there were moments that just happened as I wrote that ended up shifting the story from what I'd originally planned.

I recently went back and re-wrote that fic, adding another 10K to flesh it out better. I'm so much happier with it (even though I loved it before), but I haven't published the updated version on AO3. Not sure whether I will.

Which of your stories came together the fastest?

The first one (Whoever, However). But it's also only 9K. Harry dropped that Beauty Papers spread and my brain exploded. The story was all there. I think Hike Up Your Skirt was probably the next quickest (again, it's not terribly long), but that one I originally wrote for the Anonymous Unicorns collection so there was a lot of freedom in getting to write anything I wanted without fear of judgment. If I could only harness that, I'd be able to bang them out!

What fic of yours was the hardest to write?

I think Literally Making Love.

It was an unusual premise, in that it's about a robot and a human falling in love, but I really struggled with whether I should make it "more" than a love story. It felt like it deserved to be "more", or that it should have more about how AI changes the world and a conversation about loneliness and the way the world contributes to that. So I kept feeling like I wasn't going down the right path with what I was writing, but India reminded me that there's just as much value in a lighthearted story as there is in "serious" writing. We all know the joy of sinking into a comfort fic, or kicking our feet at something really sweet and happy. So I let Literally Making Love be what it wanted to be and I was ultimately super proud of it. And, in the end, I think I did a good job of dealing with the ethical issues, even though I didn't make that the center of the fic.

What inspires you most while writing?

Visuals to begin with. I tend to get inspired by photos or a piece of art. Sometimes song lyrics. But visuals keep me going so I make moodboards for myself and I find quotes or pictures on Tumblr that feel like they belong to the story. I think all of my fics have a link to an inspiration tag on my blog.

And then talking through things with India.

It's so helpful to have someone who gets what you're shooting for and who has the same sense of what makes for good writing. So I'll brainstorm with her when I'm stuck or give her sections to see if it's reading the way I want it to... It keeps me going.

I don't know how writers do it all by themselves. There are times when I've read something so many times that I can't even tell if it's any good. And I do the same for her... helping her get through her writing challenges or brainstorming her projects also makes me a better writer.

In the notes of Literally Making Love you mentioned a 9 month long writers block. What helped you out of it?

Truly it was just that piece of fan art I linked in the note at the start. I'd never seen that artist's work before and this drawing of Louis building an unfinished Harry ended up on my dash and I said, "Well, I'd read the hell out of that." Sadly, no one else was going to write it for me, so I had to do it myself.

While talking about this, I pointed out that I searched a few tags of this particular trope after I finished reading Literally Making Love and couldn’t find more than a handful of fics, which I was surprised by.

Gina thinks people are put off by the idea even if there are so many ways to handle it that could make for a beautiful story.

What do you find most challenging about writing?

I was about to say finding a title, but then I realized that I only had trouble with that in two of the five I wrote.

Hmm. Honestly, I think the most difficult thing for me to write are arguments/fights.

I tend to be really passive-aggressive when I argue, and that doesn't make for very good reading. So I really have to work at crafting a back-and-forth that feels natural but also packs enough of a punch for the scene to work. In An Invincible Summer, the argument scene was pretty pivotal, and one of my betas at the time made me re-write it three times before she signed off on it.

Is there anything you can tell me about future projects you’re planning?

I'm working on another historical fic at the moment. It's slow burn and longer than anything I've written before. So that's a challenge. It's set in the 1880s between the Belle Epoch debauchery and decadence of Paris, and Victorian London's rigid social structure and moral conservatism. Basically, Harry is a French ballet dancer turned sex worker/courtesan. Louis is a British aristocrat whose father has sent him off to Paris to get "the gay" out of his system before he has to marry. There are some twists and turns, and I'm having a lot of fun trying to keep things sexy and exciting for a modern reader while still being true to the time period.

I still don't have a title, and I'm still working on a brief description to sum it up. But... I'm about 60K in and I'm having fun.

When I told Gina that that sounds like you’d have to but lot of research into it, she said:

So much research! But I actually love that part. I get really into the nitty gritty and look up everything. For example, did you know the ice cream cone wasn't invented until 1896 (although not patented until 1903)? LOL! I had to change a scene I was writing because all of a sudden, I thought, "Did they have ice cream then? How did they keep it cold? How did they eat it?" I honestly hate reading something when little details are wrong. It totally pulls me out of a story.

For the next part of the interview, I asked Gina a few questions about her works in particular.

Gina about her favourite scene she wrote, her experience with writing before writing fanfics and being inspired by her own family’s history:

What work of yours is your personal favourite?

Hm. I think Literally Making Love is my favorite because it's the most unique concept, and I'm really proud of some of the writing in that one.

Hike Up Your Skirt is, I think, my most popular one. But that's not surprising because it's complete filth.

Do you have a favourite scene that you wrote?

There's a scene in Literally Making Love when they're walking the dog through the woods, and they're talking about the concept of being lonely, and Harry realizes he's the only one in the world who can understand anything he's experienced. I just really loved how that scene came together. To me it's very visual, and it's got that kind of poetic, dreamy feeling to it that I love to find in fics (and am forever trying to emulate, but I think that might be the only time I've succeeded so far).

I told Gina that this was a scene that definitely made me think about the concept of being all alone with an experience. Here’s what she said about that:

I like moments in a story that make you stop and think about more than just the story you're reading. I think these days, we can much more easily connect with others who can understand most of our experiences very deeply. Although, I imagine if you were the only highly advanced AI robot in the world, you might have some experiences no one else has had to grapple with.

Is there a work of yours that was planned to go completely different than it came out in the end?

There are definitely moments within the stories that I never planned on, and they changed some aspects of how the story ultimately came together.

For example, in An Invincible Summer, the idea for Harry to hold on to memories by getting a camera popped out of nowhere.

In Literally Making Love, the scene of Louis painting Harry's tattoos over his scars came in a dream and that meant I added the aspect of Harry's body dysmorphia. So, little things for sure.

Whoever, However was your first fic you published. Did you write in any form before that?

I did.

I wrote non-fiction for a bunch of magazines and online outlets. I've also ghostwritten three books.

Beyond that, no. Just lengthy blog posts about two gay boybanders.

What were your inspirations for gathered on wings?

There was a photo of Louis in some sort of haphazardly layered jackets and standing in front of these graffitied walls, and it had this caption, saying that he looked like a PhD candidate at the Sorbonne. That was how the idea started.

I had wanted to write a teacher/student fic without the creepy aspect of grooming and inappropriate conduct, and somehow my comment led to Harry having been his intern and them meeting again years later.

Then, the research on all the modern art and the high-end art world informed the rest of the story.

You didn’t go much into detail how successful Harry’s art got after ‘Comrade’ recommended his art for an exhibition at the Marlborough Gallery. Was that the push Harry’s work needed to get the attention it deserved?

It was.

He'd been relying on sugar daddies to pay his way and to give him the connections to patrons. But Comrade vouching for him opened the doors to him being able to do it independently. It's that feeling of, "If I could just get my foot in the door, I could show them what I can do."

That was his foot in the door.

Gathered on wings was my first attempt at writing a chaptered fic, and there was a huge learning curve. There are parts of it I really like and parts I sometimes want to go back and re-write.

Do you think Louis’ identity in gathered on wings always stayed hidden even after they got engaged (and eventually married)?

I like to imagine that as Harry became more widely known, people became interested in his partner. And Louis would then decide to reveal his identity with a new installation that they collaborated on.

Staying hidden when your partner is famous is probably a hard thing to do.

I think so. Especially if you're in the same field. In a way, it mirrors the idea of the two of them coming out at some point.

You said in the notes for An Invincible Summer that it’s inspired by your grandfather’s life. Was that your only inspiration for the story?

It's what set the scene. Other than that, I knew I wanted to write about writing and seeing yourself in a book or feeling understood by someone you never met but who's somehow written about you and your life. The concept of feeling really "seen" is something that shows up again and again for me.

You didn’t go into any detail about Harry’s relationship with his adoptive parents after he left at the end of An Invincible Summer, even though his mother tried to support him as much as she could when he had to leave. Do you think they held contact after Harry was forced to leave or if he/they even went back as a part of H & L’s adventures?

I think Harry managed to stay in touch with his mother secretly and to eventually reunite with his sisters.

When I rewrote the story, I changed the middle sister to a brother to show another way that Harry was treated differently. So I imagine Big Jim and the little brother digging their heels in and acting like he never existed. But Harry and Louis eventually had a beautiful and extensive found family.

The end of Hike Up your Skirt (And Show Your World To Me) is pretty much open. How do you think their relationship progressed and do you think they have a chance of having a normal (as in no power imbalance or manipulation) relationship?

Mmm. I actually started writing a second part from Harry's POV where you see that Harry is also playing a game to get Louis to fall for him. I see their relationship becoming a 24/7 Dom/Sub life. I think they're both way too kinky and maybe a little too depraved to have a "normal" relationship.

Are any of your original characters inspired by people you know in your day-to-day life?

No, actually. LOL! Very simple answer. They're all just figments of my imagination.

A lot of other writers in the fandom have difficulties or are just a little uncomfortable with writing smut. That doesn’t seem to be the case for you. Why’s that?

HAHAHAHA! No, I think it’s actually the easiest part for me to write. I’m not sure why. I don’t have a lot of hang ups around sex, so maybe that helps. And I love the idea of character development through intimate scenes.

How did you come up with the idea for your fic rec masterpost here on Tumblr and how did all of that start?

I think it just started because someone asked if I could recommend some fics in a particular category (If I remember correctly, it might have been dystopian fics). And I had too much time on my hands, so I decided to make a header and write little blurbs about why I liked each one I was suggesting.

Somehow that turned into a deluge of people asking for different things and, for whatever reason, I had the time at that moment. So I made rec after rec.

At some point it was annoying that people kept asking for the same things, so I just made an alphabetical masterpost.

Is there a specific trope or genre you’d like to read more of?

Oh, that's a good question. It's so much easier to tell you what I don't like.

Honestly, to me, it's really more about the writing than about the trope or genre. But I do really like a good enemies-to-lovers fic, and if you can write a new twist on a fake relationship, I'm all in.

Do you somehow track the fics you’ve read? And if you do, can you give me a rough number of how many you’ve read?

So, I only bookmark fics I've really loved. Obviously some I love more than others, but I currently have 655 fics bookmarked.

I've been reading in this fandom for 11 years. Some I won't have read all the way through, but counting those, I'm sure I've literally read thousands.

I've gone through periods where I've just got a lot more free time at one point or another. And when I entered the fandom in 2013 there were literally so many terrific fics I didn't know where to start.

And every time you turned around there was another. It was very addicting.

Are you reading anything right now? If not, what was the last thing you’ve read?

I have a hard time reading when I'm actively writing, so nothing really recent.

The last fic I read that I really liked was Danger I Can't Hide by CelticSky. It's actually a WWII fic but set on the airbase where H is a pilot and Louis is a mechanic. It's just so well written and so well researched. Highly recommend.

For the next part of the interview, Gina answered some personal questions about her experiences in the fandom.

Since when are you in the fandom and what made you become a fan?

Since November 2013.

I took my daughter (who was 6 at the time) to see This Is Us. Did a little research to make sure this boy band was appropriate for her and then fell in love with them. We ended up seeing the movie three times, then bought it and watched it at home. She was a Niall girl.

She was my concert buddy for a while. One Direction at the Rose Bowl in 2014 was her first concert.

The weirdest comment you got?

Oh, I get some doozies on Tumblr.

I think one of my favorites was from years ago when I used to do a lot of NSFW fan art. I got an anonymous message from someone claiming to be Harry's lawyer and they were demanding I delete all of my fan art of Harry. HAHAHAHA! Like an attorney would send an anon. Or even ask for something like that. I still laugh when I think about that one.

Harry or Louis?

It's very hard to choose because they're both amazing. I'm a Harry girl from way back. But I obviously love and support Louis, too.

Harry just really inspires me in so many ways. And his music is more my speed.

Your favourite Harry era and your favourite Louis era?

Oh, that's hard. I think Harry's recent era (Harry's House) might be my favorite because he seemed so happy and so self-assured and confident in who he is as a person. He looked fantastic too. Other eras are special to me because of what was going on with the fandom at the time, or because I liked the way he dressed or whatever, but in terms of just enjoying him, I'd have to say this last tour.

Louis is a little more difficult for me because I've had a really hard time with his image over this last tour and his doubling down on babygate. I'm very happy he says he's really happy and proud of his album/tour, but if I had to pick my favorite I feel like he looked the healthiest and most at ease during MITAM promo. Oh, he looked great during his Walls promo, too.

Your favourite movie with H?

My Policeman. It was a bit uneven, but he really blew me away in some of his scenes. He understood that character inside and out.

Your favourite writer(s) in the fandom?

I actually have so many that I like, although many aren’t in our fandom anymore.

It might be easier to link you to a Favorite Authors rec I made a while ago.

What are your absolute favourite fics in the fandom?

I’m going to make it easy on myself again and link you to a Favourite Fics rec.

Is there a fic that is not necessarily your favourite but still always kind of stuck in your head ?

There are fics that aren’t necessarily the most groundbreaking or complex, but something about them makes me keep coming back to re-read. Don't kill me, but... My Favorite Re-Reads.

I wanted to give you a favorite out of that list, but as I scrolled I was like, oh wait, that one! No, that one! So... sorry, you get them all.

What makes you want to stop reading something?

Hm. So many things, honestly.

Writing where people try too hard to be poetic, continuous spelling and grammar mistakes, miscommunication as the only tension, no tension at all, characterizations that make no sense to me, fics that go on and on and on with no attempt at editing, kid fics, etc. I really have very few squicks, but bad writing is hard for me to ignore (I know "bad" is subjective, so I hope no one takes offense at that... just because I don't like it doesn't mean others don't love it).

Your favourite song at the moment?

Chappell Roan is stuck in my head lately. So, I'll say Casual (although Pink Pony Club is a bop).

Your favourite season?

Fall. Absolutely. SO fucking sick of summer.

The most unusual thing that inspired you?

LOL! I'd have to say the Vintage "Sleaze" novel that inspired Hike Up Your Skirt. It was called "Horizontal Secretary".

Who would you most like to read an interview from?

Well, I'm obviously going to say India because I think she's a great writer. But she's also so well-spoken and interesting.

I'd love to read an interview with CelticSky because I loved Danger I Can't Hide so much and I don't know them since they're on Twitter!

Lastly I asked Gina to give every work of hers a colour. Here’s the outcome of that:

Whoever, However -- yellow

Whoever, However is yellow, because when I think about it, I picture the warm, yellow shade of the wood paneling of the room they filmed in.

gathered on wings -- blue

I’m not sure why gathered on wings is blue in my head. Maybe it’s just because that’s the main color of the mood board I made.

An Invincible Summer -- green

An Invincible Summer is green because the rural Georgia setting became one of the characters of the fic. When I think about it, I see the sprawling farm, the rampant kudzu, blueberry fields, lunch under the oak trees… it just feels green to me.

Literally Making Love -- red

Literally Making Love is red because so much of the story is about what it means to be human and even though Harry’s heart isn’t “real” at some point he says to Louis, “Sometimes I feel like you made my heart too small because it doesn’t hold everything I feel for you. I feel it overflowing everywhere.” Or, maybe it’s because it has “Love” in the title. LOL!

Hike Up Your Skirt (And Show Your World To Me) -- purple

I don’t know. The first thought that came to me was purple because I pictured Harry’s character with love bite bruises.

A huge thank you to Gina again. Thank you for being so open and honest while answering my questions. I had the best time talking to you and was so invested in every work of yours.

[evvyyypeters-fics]

Dragon Prince! Evan Peters Headcanons + ( x gn!reader)

Warnings! Mentions of violence, fluff, little angst, lots of rambling and dragon lore stuff, not rlly proofread

Disclaimer! This is obviously not an accurate representation of Evan Peters as a person. This is a characterized/ fictionalized idea/ concept. Do not take this as fact. It is entirely fiction and based on my own opinions, thoughts and conception.

Good lord this photo does things to me. Eye contact with Evan has me melting

Requested by @jazz-berry (as usual) and inspired by @lemoniiiiiii

Y/N is definitely a self made boss, bounty hunter/ hunter/ pirate/ archer, etc. and Evan is extremely protective over them, it’s in his nature, but he knows how they feel about him being overbearing or getting in the way of them having their independence. So he kind of steps to the side, while keeping a big eye on Y/N. And if they’re ever in immediate danger and he’s around, you know he’s going to be the one to come save their ass instantly. He’ll be dramatic about it too, he has a stoic face where he acts like he isn’t super worried, but he’ll pick Y/N up even if they aren’t injured bridal style and carry them to a log or some sort of chair, bench or bed to sit down and heal.

“Y/N” He shouts, his voice louder than anything you had heard before, it was passionate and almost frantic. And yet, it almost sounded like a roar with the anger that was built up inside.

He rushed towards the dragon that had trapped me at the edge of a forest, its leaves barbed by rows of thorn bushes. To enter them would not only seal my fate, but also be a painful journey. And Evan was allowing neither. His cape bellowed, flickering before my eyes before I could clear the blood dripping from my head and traveling down my eye, his stance confident before the tall beast. He drew his long sword, sheathing it and wielding the heavy weapon between both hands.

I knew that Evan was the ‘dragon prince’ (even though I truly didn’t fully understand what that meant yet), but it still amazed me each time that just the mere look inside of his eyes and the gleam of his large sword made the firey creature cower, picking up its heavy wings, floating above the large scape of land. The grass shuddering beneath each audible flap, Evan’s gaze following the dragon as it rose in the air and turned away, disappearing behind the icy capped mountains in the distant lands. Evan instantly pivoted on his heels towards me, sheathing his sword back into its halter. I could hear the jingle of the chainmail on his armor and the buckle of his boots as he hurried towards me, lowering himself to my wounded position in the grass. He places a leathery, comforting hand on my cheek as he eyes the wound that to his relief, quickly crusted.

“Come on, let's get you out of here.” He says in that same cold tone he always uses. But there’s something oddly sweet with the way he scoops me up from under my knees, forcing my arms to flail around his shoulders, holding him tight as he carries me back to the kingdom like his bride.

“Is this truly necessary?” I ask, flustered. He only hums in response, not letting go. In fact, I swear I could feel his grip get tighter for a moment, adjusting me more comfortably in his arms. My eyes focused on his stubbly chin, his cape flickering behind him in the corner of my eye.

Headcanons:

(lore)

- He’s a dragon prince, so I think he would actually have some sort of DNA connection with the dragons/ spiritual one. His main defense mechanism against them being his ability to communicate with them, more in a telepathic sense. His eyes may glow yellow or have a more “dragon-like” appearance when he uses that part of himself

- He has a sword specifically made to pierce the tough scales of a dragon and is derived from special materials that are toxic to dragons

- Anyone can train a dragon in this world, but he has an easier time due to his communication ability, being able to tame them easier. He has lots of dragons who he is allied with who help me slay the other territories.

- There are multiple kingdoms made of dragons, and they go to war with each other, and humans can get crossed in this mix which is where he comes into the picture

- He’s sort of a hybrid mitigator for dragon-human wars, and even helps the dragon allies with their own turf wars

- His main duty is as a guard/ knight for the kingdom, he keeps watch for dragon attacks as well as humans. He used often as a weapon against dragons by the kingdom

- The royal family of the kingdom doesn’t recognize being a “dragon prince” as a real royal standing, so while he’s technically royalty and is part of a rare bloodline, he is not considered so by many. The highest ranking he has is being close to a commander/ knight, but only in the ordeal of dealing with dragons during war/ an attack

- He has his limits when it comes to slaying dragons. He will only slay dragons that are an active threat to the kingdom or someone he loves. He will never slay a dragon without a valid reason, and will negotiate with them before making any attacks

- He’s part of a royal bloodline, mixed between dragon and human, they’ve existed for thousands of years but were feared by many and slowly died out/ got colonized/ executed. He was abandoned/ his family was massacred when he was young and was found by a blacksmith of the kingdom when he was young. So he didn’t know he was part of the rare bloodline until he came in contact with a dragon when he was 13 and learned of his ability. His father then told him the truth of his origins and he began training as a knight to become a guard in the kingdom, thanks to the help of his adoptive father.

- He sometimes gets visions of the future, of course pertaining to things that involve dragons, but also premonitions of things that could lead to the end of the world. Dragons and humans are interlinked from ancient history, so certain clashes have almost led to the destruction of the world. There were a few ice ages and purges of life, but they eventually came back. Evan can get dreams/ spontaneous visions of these events due to his connection to both human and dragon and it’s essentially his job to keep order.

- There are others like him in the world, but because the bloodline has died out so much, they are rare to come by and most that are aware of what they are have hidden away in fear of being sought after and murdered for their powers.

- The kingdom where Evan lives needs his powers to survive in the kingdom because they live right on the edge of a mountain range where on the other side all the other dragon kingdoms reside, so they are more likely to get attacked or hit in a crossfire. Evan living there gets automatic protection, so he hasn’t left and is given fairly decent hospitality. He also has lived there his entire life and hasn’t put much thought into the outside world. Too focused on the job he has in his home to consider exploring or finding others

(relationship to Y/N)

- Y/N and Evan have known each other since they were kids. Around 6-7. They didn’t always get along, having a more frenemies relationship where they would pick on each other.

- As they got older they both became closer and better friends, relating on the fact that the other teens and children of the kingdom found them weird and they were both slowly isolating to each other

- They spent a lot of time together by the creek/ river, playing in the woods and skipping rocks

- They would both stay out together as long as they could, avoiding their own homes because not only did they not want the fun to end, but they both didn’t want to go back to their homes where their lives didn’t feel perfect or less lonely

- They found solace in their friendship together

- They each had their own separate dreams, Y/N wanted to explore the world outside the kingdom whereas Evan wanted to stay in the kingdom forever and become a knight. This caused them to start fighting again occasionally when the topic was brought up, and as they got even older, they began to distance themselves

- Y/N was the first to know about Evan’s connection to the dragons, having been there when they were playing by the edge of the woods and a dragon came and landed in front of them. Evan, being naturally protective, got in front of Y/N and found he could speak with the dragon and have an understanding. But Y/N, not having any such power just saw the two standing before each other for a few tense minutes before the dragon flew away

- They were both freaked by the incident at the time, and as they talked more about, became slightly excited. Evan already knew he wanted to use his talent to protect the kingdom, but Y/N believed he could do more with it. Like bringing peace between the humans and dragons for millenium.

- Eventually they both turned 18, and Y/N fled the kingdom and began traveling while Evan stayed and became a knight

- They spent at least a decade apart until Y/N came back to the kingdom with a group of thieves, helping them steal money from the townsfolk and hoping to steal the riches from the kingdom. They had their own reasons for doing so, mainly just trying to keep themselves alive and look out for themselves.

- Evan hears about the group of thieves that have entered the kingdom and is tasked with keeping them out of the castle. He catches one of them during a small ambush, realizing it’s Y/N he is confused, angry and distraught. They explain their reasoning for being a part of the group and the pair are still on rocky terms

- In return for not sending Y/N to jail, they come to an agreement/ deal that they will help him track down the rest of the thieves and imprison them

- They slowly reunite and warm back up to each other, remembering the old days as they spend time together getting into fights across the kingdom to find the thieves and catch them before they get to the castle, rekindling their once broken friendship

- They bond over their individual memories, Y/N telling Evan stories of the outside world and what they were doing, and Evan talking about his adventures as a knight and mitigating for the dragons and the kingdom

“You know, when we were kids, I had a huge crush on you.” I laughed as my stomach tickled, feeling the warm flames of the fire flickering, licking and trying to reach me from its cage of rocks and sticks, only getting a small tickle of warmth through the cold night air.

The stars were heavy above, twinkling like the ripples of water from the ocean. I could see Evan’s stoic face, outlined sharply by the yellow flames dancing across it. His cape draped over the back of the thick log he was perched upon. Despite the blank expression on his face, I swear I saw a twinkle in his eyes of surprise and that’s when I felt the air around us get thickly uncomfortable. The silence becomes stale and quieter, practically deafening if it weren't for the chirp of the crickets–which I call the birds of the night. It’s almost as if he can sense that his reaction has made things more awkward, because he lowers his gaze to the fire and says something I truly didn’t expect.

“Yeah, so did I.” His voice is soft, almost romantic in a way. I feel as if the wind has been knocked from my lungs. All this time, the boy–the man, who had been in the back of my mind all of these years. The one who got away, the one who I had never thought in a million years would ever love someone like me. He just admitted he had a crush on me? I could hardly fathom it, let alone hear it. I almost believed I was dreaming.

“Is it that surprising?” He asks curiously, as if I gave him an offended look, realizing that my eyes were probably blown into saucers after what he said because I feel him practically snap me out of a daze with those words, forcing my face to relax. I can almost see a smile stretch at the corner of his mouth after my expression softens, his gaze finally lifted back to me fully and searching my eyes.

“N-No I uh, I mean I just–I didn’t expect that. Really.” I said, my words tripping over themselves. There was that silence again, the loud ambience of the night filling my ears back up like cotton balls.

“You know…” I said slowly, breaking the silence, my eyes flickering around. Trying not to land my gaze back into his eyes as I feel my heartbeat begin to quicken, squeezing inside of my chest. “I still think you’re kind of handsome…” I almost hoped he hadn’t heard me, too flustered by the admittance. My feelings hadn’t changed for Evan since the day I left him, if anything they had gotten worse the moment I saw that it was him who had caught me that day. The way he was so strong, perfectly groomed, the chubby look on his face I had always pictured of him was gone and in return left with the most perfect frame. His light curls thick and fluffy against his head, the length I had remembered that always covered his eyes having been cut to a charming length revealing the deep black pits that were his irises. A color that could only be matched to the obsidian with the way it shimmered and yet there was no light inside of them, as if it was soaked up inside of them.

I gain the courage to look at him again and I’m shocked to see that a rosy tint has spread across the apples of his cheeks and spread to the tips of his ears. His eyes wide, the obsidian black irises stark against his sclera, like a pebble. I cover my lips as I catch an escaped giggle at his expression and he quickly softens it, realizing how stupid his reaction must have been. Now he’s the one who can barely look me in the eye.

There was something different about the rest of that night, in the way that we looked at one another. More attentive, more passionate, something lingering in the distance. Words unspoken and yet so many told. I don’t think I would have traded it for anything.

May do a part two if this is popular. You can request a fic about this concept if you want ♡

Taglist (you can be added or removed at any time):

@fear-is-truth @xkaisxjazzxsingerx @lemoniiiiiii @jazz-berry @marchsfreakshow @colinzabelswife @dearlizzies @am3ricanh0rrorwh0re

[he-calls-me-kitten]

Jealousy, Jealousy (Part 1)

Solomon x F! MC

Long Slowburn, Angst to comfort, Rough language and behaviour

"I'm resigning as your apprentice, Solomon." The conviction in your voice was clear. You had clearly contemplated it for some time.

"You're... you're not even close to ready for higher level magic MC-" Solomon was clearly caught off-guard. More shocked than displeased.

"I don't need it. I don't need anything to do with magic or being a sorceror. I just- I'm done. So thank you for everything so far, but you won't need to waste your time with me anymore." You barely met his eyes before you walked out.

💮

This was two days ago. You were careful to tell him on a Friday, so you could avoid him for the weekend.

Mammon and Asmo both asked you whether you'd like to go out with them, but you refused. You didn't want to run into him on the streets either.

A part of you felt guilty for doing that to him. He did deserve an explanation atleast. But what could you possibly tell him?

I can't be around you anymore because I'm desperately in love with you but you already seem to have someone else.

No. It makes no sense. It sounds so juvenile and conceited, you shake your head and bite the inside of your cheek. You cringe at how strange and tense your next interaction with him might be.

But that wasn't a good enough reason for Lucifer to let you stay home. So you took a deep breath and left for RAD.

💮

To your relief, you had no classes in common in the first half. At lunch you sat alone, in a place where you'd usually never sit. Further lowering the chance to see him. So you ended up with a friendly bunch of Succubi from your classes.

They were complaining about how the assignments were too long to complete in one week and you wholeheartedly agreed. While one of them was mimicking the professor's stern voice, another one screamed.

She was holding up her phone and squealing in excitement. You peered at it. Asmo posted a new Devilgram story.

Of course.

You feigned interest to match the energy of these excited fangirls. But honestly you'd lost your appetite, listening to the conversation.

"Oh look, isn't that Solomon in the back? Oh he looks extra smoldering today. I wonder where he's staring so intently?"

"Yes yes that's definitely him. They're always together aren't they? Like an old married couple haha!"

"Solomon stays in Asmo's room when he stays at HOL, doesn't he? Oooh I wonder what sort of kinky things they get up to in there?!"

Asmo is incapable of loving him. He has known him for centuries and yet doesn't know anything about him. Even simple things like his favourite work of fiction or his music tastes. He has never taken interest in what Solomon's works or passions.

"Oh but I've heard Lucifer is more Solomon's type. Did you know he's been trying to get a pact with him since the last century?"

"Oh yeah I've definitely seen them around too. There's even fanart of them in the RAD fansites now ahaha!"

"They are totally like rivals to lovers. Did you see the magical duel they got into once? They are so equally matched!"

Lucifer cannot stand the sight of him, let alone trust him. He always told me how dubious and shady Solomon was, literally asking me to shut him up and keep him away once I became a sorceror.

You couldn't sit and stew in this conversation anymore, painfully close to puking out all the contents of your stomach. But they caught you trying to leave.

"What about you, MC? As his apprentice who do you think suits romantically Solomon?"

Me.

You wanted to scream it. But you didn't. How selfish and conceited of you. Who the hell were you decide? And it's not like people were not allowed to have their opinions on it. You couldn't in your right mind, judge them for simply making the most logical assumptions.

"Haha I honestly couldn't tell. We never really talked about things like these." You laughed awkwardly before excusing yourself. The bell rang just in time. You headed straight to class.

💮

You were clutching your books to your chest. How did things turn out like this? You were sure to be as fast as possible. How did all the seats get filled up? And why was the only empty seat next to Solomon?

"MC, please come in and sit down. We need to get the class started." The professor said, impatiently. You nodded in apology and headed in the direction of your doom.

You could feel his eyes on focused on you, sending chills down your spine. But you didn't dare glance more than once. It didn't help that this was a double period.

And anytime your hands or elbows accidentally touched, you flinched, muttering soft apologies and tried to move your seat away. But somehow your seat was being pulled back into place again.

"The next assignment is to be done in pairs. So everyone partner up with person you're sitting next to and finish it by next class. Class dismissed."

Oh, just my fucking luck.

"I'll come by the House of Lamentation at 7:30 tonight." His voice was icy as he got up from his seat, moving back so you get out of class first. On your way home, all you could hear was the sound of your heart pounding wildly.

💮

You were suprised that the house was still empty at 7. You texted the brothers asking if something happened.

Satan texted back about how there had been a sudden increase influx of student requests and the student council has too many of them to review.

Beel texted you to eat without them cause they might have to stay in school overnight. You felt your anxiety rise. The thought of being all alone in the house with Solomon...

The doorbell rung exactly at 7:30. You opened the door and welcomed him in. The coldness never left his eyes. His footsteps were deliberately slower and more weighted as he followed you to your room.

"I've set up the initial requirements of the experiment, so if you have the magical items and extracts, we can just get started right away-"

SLAM!

The door shut and locked loudly behind him. You thought you could get away with pretending everything was fine but clearly he had different intentions.

"I believe you owe me some explanations, MC." He walked over to the bed, grabbing your wrist along. You could feel the repressed anger in his grip. It scared and excited you all at once.

You found yourself cornered against the wall behind the bed, your ankles binded together by his glowing ropes. Struggling was useless. He leaned forward until you could feel his hot breath on your lips.

"Sorry about the extreme measure MC, but you have a rather unpleasant habit of running away from conversations."

💮

To be continued....

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

I feel like this is a horrible thing to say, but when I'm shown examples of when Marinette is having a hard time, it's hard for me to feel bad for her.

It's not like I think she deserves it and I certainly don't draw any joy from it, but I just don't feel any sympathy for when she's struggling.

My theory is that the show has toted her so much as the all-important one-and-only, all while ignoring everyone else's important moments and struggles, that I'm struggling to feel sympathetic for when Marinette is going through some sort of misfortune. Every single one of her struggles are always highlighted in such a way that it's supposed to be this incredibly-important thing that makes Marinette look so sad, but then she's comforted and validated until eventually, this struggle eventually gets resolved and she's all happy again.

But then there's Adrien. No closure about his mom, his dad, Natalie—nothing. He's slapped with all the responsibility of comforting and validating Marinette, who eventually gets her personal conflicts resolved without lasting impact.

I'm not saying Marinette hasn't done anything to comfort and validate Adrien, but his conflicts just feel largely brushed aside and/or downplayed in comparison to Marinette's, which are highlighted and emphasized as significant events.

I don't know if this makes me a bad person or something, and I do kind of feel bad about it, but I just struggle to sympathize with her when the show tries to make us feel bad for her.

Marinette is a fictional character. It's totally fine if the bad writing has completely turned you off to her and drained you of sympathy because the entire purpose of her existence is to entertain people. She's not some meaningful representation that you should want to connect with and understand to improve your world view or something like that. She's just a poorly written teenager in a bad kids show. As long as you're able to acknowledge that fact and own that this is mainly a writing issue - and it sounds like you are - I wouldn't stress about it. The writers have done a lot to make her unlikable! I totally get why someone would not want to watch a show starring her canon self. I struggle at times and I genuinely like Marinette! Her writing is one of the many reasons I just don't know if I'm going to watch season six.

I don't defend Marinette because she's done nothing wrong. I defend her because her faults are so clearly just bad writing and not some grand plan for the character where she's going to learn something, which makes me feel protective of her because I genuinely love the base character concept and what she could have been. It's annoying to see people treating her like she's the problem and not the writing because she's literally not allowed to learn lessons and change, so of course she keeps coming across worse and worse! Her flaws are genuinely fine for a serialized story, they just have no place in an episodic one where the characters stay largely stagnant.

For example, nothing about the season five conflict and final naturally follows the BS season four conflict where she supposedly learned to trust Chat Noir. As much as I don't agree that with that synopsis of what the conflict was, it is how Ladybug sums it up in the final:

Ladybug: Why don't you just give up on me? I've lost ALL the Miraculous! I'm the worst Guardian EVER! I wanted to control everything, I didn't listen to you, I lied to you, I kept you at a distance! Every time you offered me a helping hand, I never took it! I really made a mess of EVERYTHING! Cat Noir: We're gonna get them back one by one…until the very last. And we'll make sure this never happens again.

And yet none of this seems to impact season five. Chat Noir and Ladybug maintain all their secrets and they do absolutely nothing to track down the missing miraculous because the plot won't let them even though it really doesn't fit Marinette's character. She certainly hasn't given up controlling things because, once again, the show literally will not let her do that. The rare episodes where it happens always see her punished like when Alya handing out miraculous lead to SentiNino which almost lead Gabriel to knowing Ladybug's secret identity. Adrien suffers for similar reasons. So does Alya and so many other characters! I totally get why someone would not be able to look past canon's writing since it's not like the flaws are minor. I have the same problem with both Lila and Nathalie.

I just cannot stand Nathalie even though I know that she's as much of a victim as Marinette and all the other characters. None of Nathalie's flaws are her fault because she doesn't exist. It's just that Nathalie's bad writing hits me in a way that makes me despise her while Marinette's hits in a "protect and defend" way. There's no wider logic here. It's just a matter of what characters I connected with enough to look past the bad writing. The type of fanfics I read probably also helped...

My only real piece of advice on this topic is to watch your mental health and take a Miraculous break or even leave the fandom all together if you notice that your Marinette hate (or hate of anything in canon) is really messing with you. I've mentioned before that I'm debating about watching season six and a big reason why is that I don't know if it's going to be good for my mental health. Lila's writing has consistently got on my nerves, but she was a minor enough character that I was still having a good time. Given that Lila is our new big bad with the added bonus of how shitty season five was and the show may have hit a point where it's just not fun for me anymore.

Previously, I had issues with the overall writing, but genuinely enjoyed watching the show as the writers are pretty good at short form story telling, so canon was a nice mix of genuinely enjoyable moments and writing issues that were fun to talk about. That was not true for season five and I just can't picture how it will be true for season six. The only reason I'm even considering it is because I watch the show with my SO and he has a lot of fun listening to me rant about bad media, so I may still have a good time with season six. It would not be the first time that I suffered through a piece of bad media for the sake of a loved one who really wanted someone to rant about it with.

I'm not the kind of person who will tell people they're not welcome in a fandom unless they like X. That sort of gate keeping is ugly and often straight up bullying, so don't read this as me saying that you have to like Marinette to enjoy the show or that you need to disengage if you don't like X% of canon. As long as you're having fun and not forcing your dislike on others by sending clearly unwelcome asks or engaging with sugar posts in an antagonistic way or anything like that, then I'm going to defend your right to be in fandom even if we personally aren't going to get along and need to stay in our separate fandom bubbles.* All I'm saying is that it's important to know when to disengage from a piece of media. To keep track of when something starts consistently bringing you more sorrow than joy. When that line is crossed? It's time to move on.

The sad fact is that, while you may utterly adore a piece of media, you have no control of what that media will do, so you need to be very careful about trusting your mental health to total strangers. It's part of why I tend to be so critical of media. Analysis and plot pitches like I do on this blog are genuinely fun for me, but they're also a much healthier way to engage with a story than just trusting it to be good and getting burned when it isn't. There's a reason I avoid theory crafting. I've gotten really into that in the past and wound up hurt because I put way too much faith in strangers who ended up sucking at their job.

*Btw, the line about separate fandom bubbles was not aimed at you. It's just a general statement about how fandom works. All are welcome, but all do not need to directly interact. Curating your fandom experience is important self care. Blocking someone isn't some sort of value judgement. It's just sometimes a thing you need to do in order to keep from seething when you accidentally see their asinine hot takes.

[thebiggerbear]

i need your hand but i don't want to burn it - One - She's Gone

A/N: Not going to lie, this past month has been a tough one for me. I recently lost someone and it just sucked all of the energy out of me for writing or anything else. I started this back on Feb 16th, within hours of receiving the news, because I was trying to process it as well as my feelings on it all. Beau was in my mind from the very beginning because like I mentioned before, I literally had the thought "Man, I could go for a Beau hug right about now." So this took form and even though I was blocked on everything else, this became a sort of tool of processing for me. I was going to keep this just for myself because I found it to be deeply personal, but then I thought, well, what if someone out there is also currently grieving someone they lost and a little Beau comfort might make them feel better, too? Even in this scenario? So that's why I'm sharing it.

While it is personal what I go into, I changed up things to keep it fictional and sort of tell a story. So the characters and dynamics are fictional, just not the feelings of the reader and the emotional journey/grieving process she goes through if that makes sense.

Unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine. I attempted the graphics.

Song that randomly came out of nowhere and strangely worked was "broken" by Jonah Kagen. The lyrics just really hit home for me.

Warnings: mention of death; death notification

Word Count: 8587

Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187; @rieleatiel

Beau Taglist: @deans-spinster-witch; @birdiellie; @heartlessdelusions; @nancymcl; @illicithallways; @muhahaha303

It was a bright, sunny day when you got the news. The sky was this unimaginable shade of blue, not a cloud in the sky, and the temperature was a comfortable one. You were on the job and the slight breeze ruffled through your hair when you saw that your aunt was calling you. A knot immediately formed in your stomach; if she was calling you, that couldn’t be good. And sure enough, it wasn’t. 

“She’s gone,” she informed you matter-of-factly. 

It took a moment for your brain to catch up to what she was telling you. “What?”

“She’s gone, Y/N. Happened this morning.” Again, her tone was bland, as if she was simply telling you a package had been delivered to your home.

“How?” Your mind felt as if it was running in circles but also slowing down at the same time.

Poppernak’s head snapped in your direction but you immediately walked away from the scene. You didn’t notice the deputy watch after you and then head in Hoyt’s direction. 

“Stroke.” Your aunt was only willing to give you one word but that one word changed your entire world. It altered the landscape of your universe in a big way.

You nodded, forgetting that the woman couldn’t see you, and you felt a lump start to form in your throat. You forced your gaze onto some trees ahead and mentally told yourself that you would not cry. “Oh,” you choked out. So much for not allowing any emotion to bleed through.

“Yep.”

Once again, very bland, almost dry. You weren’t surprised, though. It had always been like this between you. “Um…did they say when the services will—”

“Nothing’s set in stone yet but the information will be on the obituary online. It’ll probably tell people who can’t make it where to send flowers.” And just like that, the digs began.

You ignored her attitude and quietly cleared your throat. “Okay,” you attempted to smooth over. “I’m so sorry, Aunt Ida. If there’s anything you need, please call m—”

“Oh, I’ll call you, don’t you worry. But right now, as it stands, we’re good. I have to get going. I still have to get to the funeral home and make all the arrangements. I’ll be talking to you soon.” Before you could say goodbye, she hung up.

You let out a heavy sigh before lowering your phone from your ear. You focused on the trees once more, pushing any thoughts away and stuffing your emotions back down. When you felt confident enough that you wouldn’t break, you turned to find Hoyt and Poppernak watching you worriedly from near the crime scene tape. You sighed once more and then began your walk over to answer the burning questions they appeared to have. 

You were driving back home on autopilot, lost in a sea of memories that forced a single tear out onto your cheek every now and then, prompting you to wipe each one away quickly. Your phone began to ring and as you expected, Beau’s name popped up. Well, that had to be some kind of record for Hoyt. Though, you supposed in these circumstances, you couldn’t blame her and you could appreciate her difficult position. She was only supposed to call Beau if there was an emergency but if she didn’t let him know that she sent you home for the rest of the day after receiving the news of a loved one’s passing, then she’d most likely be in hot water. In trouble with you or in trouble with Beau? It wasn’t hard to see why she made the choice she did. 

Beau was on vacation and you hated for that to be interrupted, especially due to this. He worked his ass off every single day and he deserved this time. He had offered to take Cassie and Kai fishing and camping, after the date passed that the two were supposed to have gone with her dad who had been killed. Kai was excited and Cassie was grateful when Beau made the offer. You and Hoyt were happy for them. Beau had even tried to entice Emily to fly up for a visit and go with them, but Carla put a quick stop to that with the mention of school and it being Emily’s senior year. To say Beau had been disappointed was a massive understatement.

And now, he was most likely spending his time worrying about you alongside teaching Kai how to catch trout and attempting to keep Cassie laughing and her spirits high. You almost didn’t answer, because you didn’t want to be one more thing he had to worry about and also because you didn’t feel like talking, but in the end you did. To reassure him if for nothing else.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” he greeted back, sounding worried just like you had predicted. “You okay?”

You briefly closed your eyes in annoyance at Hoyt. Despite your initial understanding, this really wasn’t something she needed to call him about. Someone else, yes, but for you, no. “Yeah, I’m okay,” you reassured him. “Hoyt just thought it best that I take the rest of the day, clear my head, and come back fresh tomorrow. That’s all.”

A moment of quiet passed between you as he likely mulled over your answer. Accepting it, he then offered, “Do you need anything?”

You cleared your throat to keep the lump at bay. “Nope. Thanks, though.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, who passed?”

You pressed your lips together, not really wanting to answer, but he’d find out eventually. “My grandmother.”

Sure enough, his tone softened. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.” He knew how deeply this one would cut.

You swallowed past the lump again and forced out quietly, “Thanks, but it’s fine. It was expected at some point, you know?”

“Yeah. Doesn’t make it any easier though, does it?” Beau lost his parents back when you had worked together in Houston. His dad had passed unexpectedly due to a heart attack. Everyone had been shocked, of course, but it hit Beau’s mom the hardest. It wasn’t too long after that when she started developing her own health issues and began declining. Beau’s father had only been gone for a year and a half when he lost his mom as well. You and your unit were there for him, giving him your unending support, and half of the department had showed up to the funeral, just as they had the senior Mr. Arlen’s. Not only was Beau well liked and respected but his family were no strangers to law enforcement; his dad had served on the force for decades before he finally retired. 

What you were feeling now in no way rivaled the loss he had endured back then. He not only had lost a parent, but he lost both in a short time frame. You couldn’t imagine how you would be feeling had that been you. You doubted you would be able to stand up much less continue to function day to day like he had. You wished you could borrow some of his strength, something you could use right about now.

“True.”

Another moment of quiet filled the car tainted by uncertainty and an almost alien awkwardness. That wasn’t the norm for the two of you but this situation also wasn’t the norm. Being your best friend and having known you for a long time, Beau knew some of your history but not all of it. What little you had told him had been enough for him to know this wasn’t a topic you liked to revisit and he needed to leave well enough alone. So he’d happily compensate and regale you with funny stories of the hijinks he and his brother used to get up to when they were younger instead. He didn’t push for more than you were willing to give and that was something you deeply appreciated about him.

And right now, you appreciated him even more for not pressing you for details or trying to make small talk around the huge elephant that was currently sitting on top of you. An elephant in the form of your grandmother, an elderly woman who helped raise you who you had a…complicated relationship with to say the least. You tried to think back to one of the last times you had seen her but you really couldn’t remember. The memory was there somewhere, on the edge of your mind, just out of reach. Instead, a memory resurfaced of a younger you holding onto her hand as you crossed a busy crosswalk in the city, wearing one of your best dresses with tights, shoes, a very proper coat with gold buttons done up, and a ribbon in your long hair. You had been on your way to see a play that she managed to get tickets for and you remembered that moment of her immediately shielding you as a car nearly hit you both, ignoring the traffic light as well as all of the pedestrians crossing. You couldn’t remember the heated exchange between her and the driver of the yellow cab, but you did remember her hurrying you to safety and then kneeling down to check that you were okay. You could see the determination in her light eyes shadowed by a layer of fear as she did up the top two buttons of your fancy coat and smoothed a hand down your hair. She had protected you and basically saved your life. The memory shocked you with its reappearance; you hadn’t thought about that one in a long time. You had to have been around six years old when that happened.  

Beau cleared his throat quietly. “Listen, I’m on my way back.”

That jerked you out of your reverie. “What? No, Beau, don’t. I’m fine. You’re on vacation and so is Cassie. Kai was excited to go on this trip, don’t cut it short. I appreciate it but I’d rather your plans didn’t get interrupted.”

“I already talked to Cassie and she’s in agreement. We’re heading back. She talked to Kai and he understands. We’re going to try this again next month.”

The guilt was thick inside your chest. He had been trying for a while now to get Cassie to agree to a fishing trip with him, and he’d only just convinced her. “Beau…”

“Already done,” he assured you. “We’re packing up now actually. Besides, you’re going to need some time and Hoyt’s going to need backup.”

“I told you, I’m fine and I’ll be back to work tomorrow. You don’t have to—”

“You’re going to need the time for the services. Any idea on when they might be yet?”

You pressed your lips together and glanced in your rearview mirror. “Not yet.”

He heard what you weren’t saying. “Well, it just happened. Give ‘em some time and they’ll sort it out,” he offered gently.

“Yeah,” you muttered. 

“You set up a flight yet?”

You shook your head, forgetting for a moment that he couldn’t see you. “No.”

“I should be back later tonight. I’ll come over and help you sort all of that out.”

It hit you in that moment that Beau was going to be seeing you in a few hours’ time. A part of you was relieved but another part of you wasn’t ready to let him in just yet. Not that you didn’t trust him (he was the person you trusted most actually) and not that he didn’t know how to be there for you, but something was stopping you from letting him.

“You’re going to be back late. How about you just stop by in the morning on your way to the office?”

You didn’t need to see Beau to know he was taken aback at your suggestion. “It’s not going to be that late,” he tried again. “I was thinking, if you didn’t mind, I could just stay at your place for the night. It’d be a shorter drive for me to the station tomorrow.” 

You knew it would be and you knew he was just looking out for you, being there for you should you need him, but weirdly, that was the last thing you wanted right now. “I appreciate it, but it’s going to be a long drive and you still need to drop Cassie off. I’ll look up flights when I get home. You just focus on driving and let me know when you made it back okay.”

“Y/N—”

“Someone is calling me from a New York number. It could be important. I have to go. Drive safe, alright?” 

“Darlin’, just—”

“Thank you for calling, Beau. It means a lot.” You meant that last part, you really did. You quickly disconnected the call before he could speak again. There was no call from New York, of course, and you know he knew that, but you just needed a second to think. You put your phone on silent and continued the drive to the small house you had put a down payment on when Beau had convinced you to move here to join him about a year or so before.

You ran a hand through your hair and sighed, feeling majorly conflicted. You wanted nothing more than one of Beau’s comforting hugs but at the same time, you didn’t want to be touched or comforted. You didn’t want anyone’s awkward condolences like Hoyt had offered you earlier after Poppernak told her you might have received some kind of bad news. You didn’t want to talk or cry or try to distract yourself from reality in any way, shape, or form. You wanted to just be. 

And considering where you would be flying to in the next twenty four hours, you needed as much time to process and compartmentalize as you could get.

There was no processing or compartmentalizing happening. Your brain was a chaotic mess at best. Your thoughts were all over the place, same with your emotions, and yet somehow you still felt numb and in shock. 

Not only did memories play on a loop inside your head but you could not form one single coherent thought. You had walked past your full sink of dishes at least four times before you remembered you were going to stack them in the dishwasher. You had to remind yourself that you hadn’t eaten breakfast that morning, preferring your usual coffee, and you had to eat something now that it was late afternoon so you could satiate the loudly rumbling hungry beast known as your stomach. You barely tasted the food or the beer you chose to wash it down with. 

At some point, you had pulled out a shoebox you kept carefully hidden away in a closet and began to go through old photos you kept stashed alongside a few Christmas and birthday cards over the years. You studied your grandmother in each photo and whether it was a blessing or a curse, you weren’t sure which yet, you could hear her voice and even her laughter in your mind. You could hear her yelling, too, but your brain pushed those memories away, knowing you weren’t ready to deal with that just yet.

You came across one picture of the two of you. You were in high school and had just received an award. You two were standing outside of the school and neither of you were embracing or smiling too widely. One of your aunts had asked you both to take the picture, to mark the special occasion, but the truth was, you two had been arguing most of the day, practically up until the ceremony. Just one of the many arguments you both had over the years where you didn’t see eye to eye.

You dug deeper into the box until you pulled out a special group of photos in an envelope. You took a sip of beer, a deep breath, and then opened it. These were pictures of your parents, gone in a freak accident when you were barely kindergarten age. You smiled down at the photos of the two of them with a baby version of you. No matter where you were or who took the picture, all of you appeared to be happy. Sadly, you didn’t remember those times too much, the memories too hazy and existing on that fine line between reality and fantasy. You only remembered the sorrow, the pain, and the devastation their sudden absence left. 

You came across a photo of you and your mother, but this time, your grandmother was also included. You must have been two years old and you were grinning widely from your mother’s lap at the older woman who smiled brightly back at you. You had even reached out your hands to her, almost as if you had been asking her to pick you up. You stared hard at the picture, almost as if trying to remember that exact moment in time so you could then remember the feeling.

Your phone ringing loudly made you jump and jerked you out of your concentration. You placed the photo down and sighed. You had put your phone back on when you arrived home a few hours ago and though he hadn’t called, Beau had sent you a few texts. It was more of him offering to come over, to be there for you, and to help with anything you needed. You had immediately swiped the notifications off of your screen; you couldn’t deal with that or anything else right now. You appreciated it but you just needed some time…some space actually. Just until you could get your head on straight. 

You picked your phone up and glanced at the screen, surprised to see your cousin’s name flashing back at you.

Your brows furrowed and you immediately picked up the call. “Lucy? What’s wrong?”

“Hey,” she greeted you though her usual cheery voice lacked its usual enthusiasm. While you didn’t keep in touch with most of your family, Lucy had been the exception. You weren’t close by any means but her texts and calls didn’t always go ignored. “Aunt Ida said she called you today to tell you about Gran. How are you holding up?”

You shrugged. “As well as can be expected, I guess. How are you doing?” Lucy had been just as close with the grandmother you shared while growing up but she had also stayed within the family unit while you bolted. She and her husband, John, even purchased a home two blocks away from where your grandmother lived. 

“Um, I’m okay,” she sighed into the phone. “It’s sad and not the way we expected but we all kind of knew it was coming.”

“Yeah,” you whispered, taking another sip of beer. 

“I know it might sound horrible to say but it’s kind of a relief. For Gran, I mean. She’s no longer suffering. You know, after the past couple of years…”

You felt a familiar surge of guilt start up in your chest again, and a burning feeling began in the corners of your eyes. “Yeah,” you repeated. You both stayed quiet for a moment, each thinking back to Gran’s initial diagnosis of Alzheimer’s more than five years ago and how it had quickly progressed, especially during the pandemic years. 

Lucy finally broke the silence. “So, um, I was just wondering if you were going to be flying in tomorrow.”

Your brows mashed together again. “Tomorrow?”

“Yeah. For the visitation the next day.”

Your head began to whirl. Perhaps it was the beer and you had misheard her. Though, you had only had two, maybe in conjunction with what you were feeling, you weren’t thinking straight. “Wait, wait. The visitation is the day after tomorrow?”

“Yes,” Luy sounded unsure why you were asking. “And the funeral will be the next morning. That’s why I was thinking you would probably be flying in tomorrow.”

“Aunt Ida told me that she had no idea when the services would be yet but she would let me know.”

“Oh.”

You could practically hear her nerves through the phone. “Lucy,” you warned. “When were the plans finalized?”

“Um…”

“Lucy.”

“Yesterday?” She nearly squeaked out.

That hit you like a gut punch. “Yesterday? I thought Gran just died this morning!”

Now you could really hear the nervousness in Lucy’s voice. “She, um, she passed on Monday morning.”

The fury working its way through your veins felt like molten fire. “Today is Wednesday!”

Lucy knew better than to answer that. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I thought Aunt Ida explained when she said she spoke to you this morning. She was dealing with a lot and—”

“--couldn’t be bothered to tell me, I get it. But why didn’t you call me?” The tears building were practically burning your pupils. Your grandmother had passed away two days ago and no one could be bothered to tell you.

“I-I wanted to, Y/N. I really did but, Aunt Ida said—”

Your jaw tensed and you nearly slammed your bottle down on the floor next to you as you got to your feet, all too certain what Aunt Ida had said. While Lucy was a kinder soul than most in your biological family, she also lacked a backbone when it came to your older female relatives.

“Forget it,” you hissed, roughly wiping away tears that had escaped down your cheeks. “I’ll be arriving tomorrow. Is the obituary up or was she bullshitting me on that one, too?”

“N-No, they just posted it today. It’s actually quite nice. I think you’ll—”

“Send me the link,” you ordered before you hung up and quickly began scanning available flights as you hurried into your bedroom to begin packing.   

It was late when you landed, your flight having been slightly delayed. Not that it mattered to you; if you could have delayed the flight altogether, you would have. But that wasn’t possible and neither was you staying in Helena. As angry as you were, you refused to let it keep you from doing the right thing. Plus, when you called the station earlier to tell Hoyt you wouldn’t be back until Monday, she had insisted you take the bereavement time available to you (more like ordered you) and see to your family, wishing you well. Normally, you would have put your foot down and flat out refused, content to hole up in a corner of the office and burrow yourself into work, but you knew she was right. You had to attend the services; you owed Gran that much at least.

You nodded a thanks to the cheery but tired flight attendant as she thanked you for flying with their airlines, and ambled down the bridge towards the airport. Thankfully, due to the late hour, there weren’t many people milling about and you were unencumbered from making your way down the escalator towards Baggage Claim. 

While waiting for the carousel to start up, your phone started vibrating. You glanced at the screen, sighing when you saw the name pop up that had been popping up on and off all day.

You immediately rejected the call and slipped your phone back into silent mode. But before you could hit the button, a text snuck its way through to display on your screen.

You felt bad reading the message previews and you certainly weren’t trying to ignore your best friend but you just needed some time to process all of this on your own. You had sent him one quick text earlier telling him not to come by since you wouldn’t be home. You also told him you would call him as soon as you were able. Apparently, he was ignoring that last text going by his several attempts to make contact. You weren’t trying to stonewall him, you really weren’t, but you had to go into this with a clear head. Or as clear a head as you could have in these circumstances. Wasn’t that something he always said before you two went into anything dangerous on the job?

Speaking of the job, it wasn’t that you hadn’t seen your fair share of death, mostly in ghoulish evil ways that people had come up with in order to hurt each other, and it’s not that your grandmother’s passing wasn’t expected to happen at some point like Lucy had said. But you hadn’t been prepared for how you would feel when it did and you certainly hadn’t been prepared for it to happen now.

Conflicting emotions roiled in your head and churned in your stomach. Your empty stomach from that all-too familiar discomfort you’d gotten frequently during your career. The lunch you’d eaten earlier had made a reappearance after Lucy’s phone call. You would have to get some food and soon, but where you would get that at this late hour except a greasy diner, you couldn’t even begin to imagine. Not that it mattered, either. The very thought of food made an altogether different unpleasant sensation roll in your stomach. Emptiness versus nausea…fun.

Eventually, your other suitcase made its way to you and you quickly scooped it up. You ordered a Lyft, scoffing when you noticed the wait time was a half hour, possibly more, for a pickup. How was that even possible? This was an airport! At this rate, you’d be better off taking a cab but that was bound to be pricier than the Lyft. You heaved a great sigh and plopped down on your larger suitcase, resting your chin in your hand as you waited. Eventually, you whipped out your phone and decided to mindlessly scroll through your Instagram. You weren’t a fan of the app or any social media really but Em had made an account for you one day when you had unwisely left your phone sitting on one of Beau’s deck chairs while helping him pack Pedro for a camping trip he was taking her on. You quickly got bored of any new content on your feed, since there weren't any updates from anyone you actually cared about, and swiped over to your profile.

A glimmer of a smile appeared on your face when you saw the picture Em had taken of herself and her dad, posting it for you after she saw your Houston photo and labeled it a semi-pathetic attempt at a first post. Your eyes scanned through your meager posting and the picture of Poppernak that you had taken one day near the end of your shift reminded you why you wouldn’t be working with your beloved partner the next few days. Your smile immediately disappeared and you clicked out of the app, powered down the screen, and slipped the phone into your jacket pocket.

Luckily, only a little while later, your Lyft finally arrived. After loading your suitcases into the back with the driver’s help, you were on your way to the only hotel in town. You stared out the window as the scenery passed by. Your driver, Antonio, had tried to make small talk but thankfully begged off when he noticed you weren’t too talkative, most likely chalking it up to the late flight and you being tired. Familiar landmarks came into view as he turned onto another street and memories started to flood your mind. You shut your eyes, as if to keep them out, and it miraculously held them at bay a little longer. You then settled your gaze on the back of the driver seat, refusing to look out the windows until you arrived at your destination. 

You’d have time enough to wallow in memories and regret the next few days. No reason to rush it. 

As soon as you checked into your hotel room, you immediately jumped in the shower. It always made you feel better after traveling and the flight had felt excruciatingly long this go around. That could have had something to do with you coming from Montana, though. The few flights you’d taken from Texas back in the day had definitely been shorter.

You wrapped yourself in a towel, your damp hair spilling down your back, and started going through one of your suitcases to find body lotion. Once you found the bottle, before you could begin lathering it up in your hands, your phone vibrated on your night stand.

You heaved a sigh and glanced over, seeing you had another missed call from Beau, and yet another text.

You nearly rolled your eyes, knowing he would make good on this threat if you didn’t check in with him at least once before you went to sleep. And that was the last thing you needed right now.

You slipped in your earbuds, hit his name, then the phone icon, and switched it over to bluetooth as you began to moisturize your skin. He answered it in two rings.

“Hey,” he gruffed out before clearing his throat. “About time you called me back.”

You ignored how hearing his voice immediately made your chest feel that little bit lighter and your shoulders release some of the tension you’d been carrying around the past day. “Yeah, well, when someone threatened to put a BOLO on my ass, I responded real quick. That’s all I need, this town’s cops pounding on my door, in addition to everything else.” You had meant it to come out teasingly but your voice had betrayed your aggravation. You regretted it the moment the words were out of your mouth. You knew Beau was just worried about you, that he cared about you, and wanted to make sure you were alright. In all fairness, you could have at least sent him a text to let him know you landed but you were tired and didn’t feel like talking. He would have understood. He wasn’t the asshole in this scenario; you were.

“I’m sorry about that,” he offered gently and you could hear the genuine remorse in his tone. “I wasn’t trying to give you a hard time but damn, Y/N, not one single text to let me know you’re still alive?”

You flinched at the last word and started applying the lotion more aggressively. You were eager to be done with this call, with everything, so you could crash and finally get some much needed shut-eye. You hadn’t slept much in the past forty eight hours, probably stress from the job (it happened sometimes), and you were feeling it.

“Sorry,” he murmured. “I shouldn’t have said that.” More remorse.

“It’s fine,” you muttered, popping the cap on the bottle closed and placing it on the nightstand. “Well, now that you know that I’m fine, no BOLO’s are necessary.”

“Y/N, I didn’t—”

You knew you didn’t really have a right to be angry with him but you also didn’t have the bandwidth for dealing with anyone or anything right now. You appreciated his concern and him checking on you, but all you wanted to do was hit the sack and evade consciousness for a few hours. “Listen, it’s super late, I just got in because it was a late flight and delayed at that. I’m exhausted. So if we could…” You left it open-ended, hoping he’d just take the hint and say goodnight.

You heard some rustling on the other end and you realized he must have been in bed already when you called. You quickly glanced at the alarm clock and thought over the time difference. It wasn’t even 10:30 yet back in Helena and Beau was already going to sleep for the night? That was odd. Then again, he was now a deputy sheriff down and Hoyt would need the backup in case something came up. Plus, you knew he had cut his vacation short to rush back to Helena. He was probably just as exhausted as you were, possibly more so. “Y/N… You’re not shutting down on me, are you?”

You practically did a double take at the question. “What? No! I’m not. What, I’m tired and want to go to sleep after the long day I’ve had and that’s suddenly me shutting down on you? Seriously? All because I didn’t answer a few texts or pick up one of your many phone calls?” You had no idea why but that question majorly pissed you off. The logical part of you knew you were overreacting to a genuinely concerned question from your best friend but your temper seemed to be off to the races; you couldn’t stop it if you tried. “I get that you’re a grade A worry-er and everything but I’m not some goddamn child you need to check up on every ten minutes for Christ’s sake!” In your rush of anger, you hadn’t even realized just how much your voice had raised. Not until there was a deafening silence in the room and on the other end once you finished your little tirade.

“I wasn’t trying to insinuate that you were, darlin’,” he spoke calmly.

“Don’t you darlin’ me. Don’t you dare patronize me with that shit, Arlen. Do you hear me? Don’t you dare.” Your chest felt immediately tight again and tension filled your body once more. You huffed out an angry breath and decided the best thing for you to do in this situation was to end the call as soon as possible. “Look, you wanted to know I’m still alive, now you know. I would appreciate it if you would stop calling me and texting me all the time while I’m here and threatening me when you don’t hear back from me right away. That’s the last fucking thing I need on top of everything else,” you snapped.

Beau remained quiet but you could still hear his breathing on the other end so you knew he was listening to your ranting.

“Now, I’m going to bed. I appreciate the check in but it’s unnecessary. When the services are over and I’m going to head back, I’ll let you know.”

Still nothing.

“Good night, Beau.” You hung up and angrily tossed your phone onto the bed with your earbuds before heading back to the bathroom so you could blow dry your hair.

You thought over the entire conversation. You felt slightly bad that you had lost your temper with him when he was just making sure you were okay but God, you didn’t need that right now. What you needed was to get through the next few days so you could return to your life, your normal routine, as fast as possible. The best way you could do that was to keep going, not allowing yourself time to think, and get this done.

A twinge of guilt surged in your chest when you had that thought. You hadn’t meant anything disrespectful towards your grandmother or to insinuate that you didn’t care that she had died when you were thinking that. It was just…things were already going to be difficult, if your Aunt Ida’s attitude on the phone had been any indication as well as her behavior so far. If it hadn’t been for Lucy’s call earlier and the obituary link she texted you, you wouldn’t have even known when the services were going to be so you could grab the first flight out. Yes, things were bound to be difficult and tense until this was over.

You unplugged your hair dryer in a huff and finished getting ready to go to sleep. Beau just needed to give you space. Your life in Montana had nothing to do with anyone or anything here and you were determined to keep it that way. Texas never did despite your few trips back over the years; Big Sky Country wasn’t going to either.

You supposed you shouldn’t have been surprised at the text message notification on your screen when you lit up your phone.

You felt that twinge of guilt again but this time in your heart. Beau hadn’t deserved what you had unleashed on him before. He was a good man and he hadn’t done anything wrong. You were mentally kicking yourself as you hurriedly dressed for bed and snuggled under the sheets. You stared at your screen, your thumb hovering over his name, the desire strong within you to call him and apologize. You yearned to hear his voice one more time, even if it was just him talking and you listening, him giving you hell for the things you had said in anger earlier. Hell, you almost wished he was here with you so you could fold yourself into his arms and burrow into his chest, letting his Texan drawl wash over your ear as he assured you everything would be alright. And you could stay there as long as you wanted, safe and comforted, not having to face the world or how it had changed so drastically for you with one phone call.

After a minute of indecision, you decided to let things be, get some rest, and then call him tomorrow to apologize when you were a little more clear-headed. And God, you hoped you would be more clear-headed. You powered down your screen and turned the light off, getting into a more comfortable position. You closed your eyes and tried to let the silence settle over you to start lulling you into sleep. 

A few minutes passed by of you unsuccessfully getting your mind to stop racing, constantly replaying your phone call with Beau, the phone call from your aunt, what Lucy’s call revealed (though you shouldn’t have been surprised), what you would be facing come tomorrow, and everything that entailed. Almost as if it was a track on repeat. Finally, you let out a loud huff and reached for the TV remote, turning the television on. You channel surfed until you landed on a rerun of The Golden Girls. You tried to get into the episode; the series was an old favorite that you loved. But when you saw Sophia talking to her granddaughter, you winced and decided that the show wasn’t for you right now. You continued to click through channels until you found an episode of Everybody Loves Raymond. The minute Marie walked through the youngest Barone’s household, giving her daughter-in-law a glare, you let out another wince. You finally settled on The Weather Channel and stared at the screen while the woman talked about the highs and lows expected for the next week in the area. You noticed that rain showers were being forecast for the day of the burial. How apt. And just like that, you knew your brain wasn't going to let you get any rest.

You sighed and tossed the remote away from you and rubbed your hands down your tired face. So much for sleeping.

The next day, you arrived at a familiar red-colored house with white trim, stepping up onto the old wooden porch. You could already hear a low buzz coming from inside as voices batted back and forth in conversation mixed with the sounds of young children running around and playing. One voice stuck out to you from all the rest and it made you tense up. A part of you wanted to turn around and retreat back to your hotel room.

You briefly closed your eyes and took a deep breath. No. You were not going to avoid this. You couldn’t. You wouldn’t. You could do this. You would do this. You were an adult now, you had your own life, and you were a deputy sheriff for Christ’s sake. You dealt with dead bodies, assaults, and much scarier criminals every single day. You refused to turn around and leave with your head hanging down.

As if to ensure you wouldn’t be able to leave, without your permission, your hand lifted and gave two confident raps on the front door. You could hear the chatter pause long enough that you knew they had heard the sounds. You straightened up and squared your shoulders, making sure you were holding your head high just like you did during work hours. It was a silly fleeting thought but you almost wished you were wearing your badge on your belt, having it near as some layer of invisible protection.

Before you could scoff internally at yourself, the door yanked open and there stood the older woman you hadn’t wanted to deal with. You hadn’t seen her in years and while her sandy hair was mixed with more gray and her face sported a few more lines resulting in an even harsher scowl than you remembered, the dark eyes full of contempt whenever they focused on you remained the same. 

You didn’t smile, tear up, or surge forward for a hug, and neither did she. “Aunt Ida,” you greeted. 

“Y/N,” she replied icily. “So you decided to show up for the services after all?”

You could feel your teeth set on edge but you schooled your features. You weren’t going to let her little digs get at you and you would be damned to let her see it if they somehow did. You weren’t fourteen anymore. “I did. Mind if I come in?”

Her beady eyes gave you a once over and she practically sneered before stepping back and opening the door a little wider. Not exactly a warm invitation but an invitation nonetheless. You gave her a nod and took it, ignoring the tiny snort of derision she let out as you did.

You sat uncomfortably on the old couch that you had hated as a kid. Aunt Ida had insisted this couch was for entertaining, not for young children to watch television on or jump on or do anything on really. The seat was practically as rigid as your aunt.

You silently wondered what Beau was up to now as a temporary means of mentally escaping this situation. You had tried to call him before you came over here but his phone had gone straight to voicemail. You would be lying if you said you weren’t a little hurt and a little let down that you hadn’t been able to speak with him. He had told you to call him anytime, that he was there for you despite the harsh words you had launched at him the previous night, but the one time you actually tried to reach out, he hadn’t been available. You hadn’t been prepared for the beep of the voicemail, signaling you to talk, and you ended up leaving him the most awkward message you had ever left someone. “Hey. It’s me. …I’m sorry. Call me back when you get this, okay? Or if you don’t want to, you don’t have to. I’ll understand, but…it would be really nice to hear your voice. Well…you know what I mean. Anyway, just call me back…if you want.” That had been four hours ago. And granted, he was three hours behind you now, but you knew he would already be up, getting ready for the day. So why was his phone off?

You had chastised yourself out loud after hanging up the phone, telling yourself that he was probably in the middle of something for a case that he got called in on overnight and couldn’t be disturbed. How many times did you have to do the same? You had scowled at yourself in the bathroom mirror while putting the finishing touches on your foundation. “What the hell is wrong with you, Y/N? You need to get a fucking grip.” In perhaps an immature move that you were glad no one else was around to witness, you stuck your tongue out at yourself and shook your head, muttering “Stop being such an asshole already”, and walked out the door.

And now you were here, in the house you didn’t really want to be in, surrounded by people that you didn’t really want to be around. Well, perhaps that last thought was harsh. There was really only one person you didn’t really want to see and she had been the one to let you in the door.

You quickly glanced around the room you were in, noting not much had changed since you had been here last, when you had left this town in your rearview mirror and didn’t look back. Even the scent you hated as a child was still the same: a mix of old lady perfume and stale cookies. You could feel nausea starting up in your stomach but thankfully you hadn’t eaten anything before you came here. 

Your Uncle Mason, who sat on your right, gave you a tight smile when he noticed you surveying the room. 

“Still looks the same, huh?” He offered.

“Exactly the same,” you agreed without looking at him.

Your cousin, Lucy, sat in the stiff armchair on your left and looked around as well, smiling. “I like that it hasn’t changed since we were kids. A lot of good memories happened here.” 

Your gaze dropped to the oak coffee table that still had the scratch in it from when you were a child and didn’t know any better. That was one of your countless infractions your aunt had held against you. “Yeah, good memories,” you muttered. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Mason tense a little and Lucy fidgeting nervously.

You all heard Aunt Ida finish up her conversation and hang up the old handset before she made her way into the room. “That was the funeral home. There was an issue with the plot next to Dad but it’s been resolved.”

“What kind of issue?” Uncle Mason asked.

“Payment,” Aunt Ida spat out as she sat down before turning a fresh glare on you. “I hope you’re not here thinking there’s any money waiting for you and that’s why you decided to show up.”

You nearly ground your teeth together but forced yourself to remain calm. “Of course not. I’m here for Gran.”

She scoffed and shook her head. “Only took her dying, right?”

Lucy struggled to her feet, her round belly acting as an obstacle, but she managed. “You know, I don’t hear the kids anymore. I’m going to go check on them and be right back.” She then hurried out of the room; if she could have run, you bet she would be sprinting towards the backyard her kids had been urged out into when you had arrived. You couldn’t blame her. You would be, too.

“Ida,” Mason attempted to admonish his sister. “Now is not the time.”

“Then when is it?” She snapped, making Mason shrink back, before she turned her scowl back onto you. “Why else would you show up? It’s not like you came when she needed help, when we all needed help with her. You didn’t visit her once while she was in the nursing home. Not once when she was in the hospital.”

Your jaw tensed and you felt the familiar twinge of guilt deep within. “You told me not to come, Aunt Ida,” you reminded her.

She barked out a laugh. “Is that how you heard it?”

“That’s how I heard it because that’s exactly how you said it.” You didn’t look away when she was slightly taken aback by your reply. You refused to back down from this one. You reminded yourself that you were no longer a child; you were a grown woman who didn’t have to take her shit anymore. You were no longer dependent on her or anyone else in this family for anything though when you were, she had only been too happy to make you feel like crap for it every single day of your existence.

The woman shook her head, laughing at you. “Right. You’re some big shot cop now, right? Too good for us lowly citizens.” She smirked over at Mason in collusion, though her brother was shaking his head, refusing to meet her gaze. That angered her further and the glare she settled on you was worse than before. “It’s obvious why you’re really here. Like I said, there’s no money for you. Anything she had left went to the payments for the nursing home and her funeral. And what she had left was pretty much nothing. So if you came here expecting a payout from her will, you’re going to be sorely disappointed.” 

You lifted your chin slightly higher in defiance of her accusations. “And like I said, Aunt Ida, I didn’t come here for anything other than to pay my respects to Gran, and to help where I can.” Your voice softened a little at the thought of your grandmother. “She would have wanted that.”

The other woman scoffed once more but didn’t say more due to the doorbell ringing. 

“I’ll get it,” Mason hurried to offer and then nearly rushed from the room, leaving you and Ida in one hell of a glaring contest.

“I’m only trying to do right by Gran,” you assured her.

“Too little, too late,” she hissed.

You unclenched your jaw and took a quiet breath. “Yeah,” you reluctantly agreed. “Suppose you’re right.” Right then and there you decided that once you were back in Montana, you would sever all ties, this time permanently. You owed nothing to this woman or to any of them, regardless of any blood you shared. The one person you might have owed something to once upon a time was no longer alive. If anything, you were being quickly reminded why you had left this house all those years ago and hadn’t come back.

Ida harrumphed and continued to shake her head.

You were about to stand and leave, having had more than enough in this one little exchange with your aunt, and tell her to call you if she or anyone needed anything before the wake, when Mason returned and a familiar figure filled the entryway to the room. Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped.

There stood the very man you had been trying to get a hold of earlier, giving you one of his warm smiles. You could see slight rings of shadow underneath his eyes that were similar to yours that you had been sporting this morning before using concealer. Exhaustion lined his face but so did relief. His green eyes that were centered on you softened slightly and in that moment, you knew everything that had happened the night before had been forgiven. He was here, for you.

You didn’t remember making the decision to move when you hurried over to him, Mason barely able to get out of your way before you launched yourself at Beau who immediately wrapped his arms around you, practically picking you up off the floor. You squeezed your eyes shut to keep any tears from coming out and burrowed into his neck, happy to breathe in the familiar scent of his cologne. No one said anything and for that you were grateful. You didn’t want anything to shatter the one good moment you’d had in the past two days.

Eventually, when you felt like you wouldn’t break down in tears and you had yourself under pretty good control, you choked out in a whisper, “You’re here.”

“Damn right I am, darlin’,” he confirmed into your ear, making you smile as you heard that Texan drawl you loved so much. The tension in his body relaxed though his hold on you did not. You felt him press a kiss to your hair before hugging you even tighter. “I’m here.”

dividers by @firefly-graphics

[ciaossu-imagines]

Hibari Kyoya and grief

You know how everyone says there is all these different stages of grief? Not to Hibari, there’s not. There’s really only one stage of grief to him, one emotion he really feels comfortable feeling and expressing in the wake of losing something in his life. Of course, everyone knows what I’m going to say that one emotion is. It’s very obvious, just in how he deals with life in general, in how he interacts with the world, and who he is as a person. Grief, as expressed by Hibari, is not just anger, but an almost primal, animalistic level of rage.

Now, straight out of the gate, I want to say that I don’t think Hibari really grieves anything small. Small things that might make other people stop and grieve a little, things like losing an important object to them, things like their favourite show being cancelled, a character they adore being killed off, their favourite eatery going out of business, their favourite t-shirt getting too worn out to wear – none of these things really affect Hibari much at all. He’s not a materialistic person in any sense. He tends to lean the other way, in fact, where his life is quite minimalistic in nature. He does not need a lot of objects and things to be satisfied in his life and when something gets lost or breaks, because he doesn’t have an attachment to it, he’s fine with just replacing it. He doesn’t really have an interest in media, so there’s very few shows or movies he watches enough to get attached to them, and he finds it difficult to really gain any attachment to fictional characters. While he definitely has establishments he prefers to frequent, if they are going to close down, Hibari sees no point in grieving that. Instead, Hibari views grief as useless in these situations and would rather take action. And with the level of influence and power that Hibari has in Namimori, the action he takes is normally enough to ensure that what he wants to stay open stays open and successful.

He’s really a man who would rather do something about a situation than to grieve over it. And in his mind, there is always something he can actively do rather than sitting around, moping and wallowing in self-pity like some pathetic sack.

This attitude really will extend to the grief he would feel about slightly more serious things. Though Hibari would not get into relationships or friendships easily, someone walking out of his life isn’t out of the question. He will feel emotions about that, he will feel some sort of grief about that. To most people though, his reaction to this type of grief, and to larger amounts of grief, is going to appear absolutely cold-hearted. He will not cry or seem sad about things like this. It’s just not in his nature or his character. He remains almost emotionless, and any mention of his loss only results in replies that seem completely apathetic in nature, even down-right rude and dismissive towards the person who left him. He seethes in his grief though, in his anger, and to him, the only logical thing is to do something about all that anger he is feeling.

If at all possible, he will directly confront the person who has chosen to leave his life. It’s not that he wants them to remain, because he does not. He has absolutely no use for someone who, to him, has proved themselves capable of betraying him, of dismissing him. His grief is directly related to his own ego in these cases, and it’s part of what will fan the fire of his aggression and rage. He would prefer to settle things with that person completely, to get closure, often through violent means, and if he is denied that, Hibari will take it out on innocent people around him. Once he has been allowed to really work out everything he’s feeling on someone else’s body, once he has smashed in someone’s ribs, felt the satisfying snap of someone’s arm breaking under his hands, he feels more in control of himself again. He feels more finality, feels his ego is back in place, and he’s more able to shove the grief into the furthest back recesses of his brain and move forward as if nothing at all had happened.

Even when it comes to major grief, Hibari would be judged as being very cold-hearted by those around him in his approach to this sort of grief. There are really only three things in the world that Hibari will truly grieve fully, will truly feel that level of emotion towards – someone in his life, who is truly important to him, like Kusakabe for instance, dying is one. Though he pretends like he doesn’t love them, Hibari does love his animal companions, and their deaths will weigh heavily on him, at times even more so than the death of a human person, so that’s number two. Number three is anything destroying Namimori. Something terrible threatening Namimori or outright destroying it, like the fury of nature, would absolutely cause Hibari to grieve.

However, much like with the smaller amounts of grief, Hibari doesn’t cope by allowing himself to feel sad. It’s not that sadness isn’t something that Hibari is capable of feeling. He, for sure, does feel sadness and despair and hurt at these moments of major grief. It’s just that Hibari does not deal with those emotions well. He just doesn’t know how to deal with him. They’re foreign to him, they make him distinctly uncomfortable to feel. In a way, he does feel like those sorts of emotions are the emotions of the weak, and it makes him a little sick to find them rising in himself. Because of this, he does everything he can to change those feelings, to funnel and convert them into anger, just pure and simple rage and hatred towards whatever caused that grief. That kind of emotion is something Hibari can chain down. It’s something he’s far more comfortable with feeling, an emotion he views as more appropriate, an emotion he can take control of.

With all that rage in him, he pushes himself to take action. He not only wants to be doing something but needs to be doing something. Sitting and dealing with his emotions is not something that he will let himself do in the face of grief – instead, his sole purpose is just to do something, anything about that grief. In the case of his animal companions passing on, that action he can take is burying them. Digging the hole gives him something physical to focus on and that helps him. He always buries them alone, with no one else around to see him. I do think this is because, once the animal in question is buried and Hibari has accomplished that action, this is the one moment he allows himself to soften even the least little bit. This is when something has been fixed enough to him for him to allow himself to say goodbye to his precious animal companion, to thank them for their service to him. It’s a moment he would not be able to allow himself around another living person.

In the case of a death of someone in his life, the action Hibari feels he can take is revenge on whoever caused the death or devoting himself, in some physical way, to carrying on that dead person’s legacy. Even if the person themselves died from natural causes, because of old age or due to a sickness, Hibari can find someone to pin the blame on for their death – the doctors didn’t do enough. The hospital was at fault. There’s opposing families encroaching on the Vongola, daring to besmirch the legacy of Tsuna or the other Guardians. There’s always someone that Hibari can pin responsibility of that grief on because he needs to be able to do so. He needs to be able to fight someone or the idea of something. He needs something or someone to take action against for anything to be okay for him. He cannot allow himself to move on until that is done.

And, of course, during all the time he is grieving, Hibari is going to be more short-tempered than normal. He will withdraw even more into solitude, will prove more violent and easily provoked, will start displaying more misanthropy.

[bookwyrminspiration]

Hi there!

I had some questions (or statements I wanted to discuss I’m not sure what to call them) because I genuinely don’t know much about the subject. I’m on anon right now but I may comment on my own account later. Also don’t feel obligated to answer if this makes you uncomfortable.

So I was wondering if you could articulate any thoughts on proshipping in the kotlc fandom? I wanted to know your thoughts as from my understanding (and please correct me if I’m wrong) you see it pretty positively, and I wanted to better understand the ‘issue’ (idk what to call it)

Anyways I thought I should include what I already know.

So I understand that when people participate in proshipping it does not reflect their actual worldview.

I understand that it is fictional and really doesn’t affect real life.

I think my issue with proshipping has to do specifically with it happening in the kotlc fandom, and this has to do with Keeper of the Lost Cities being a kids series. My problem isn’t specifically with that, but mostly with the amount of “kids” participating in our fandom space (not actual kids like ten year olds but from my understanding we have an array of people from ages 13-16 who I would consider pretty young)

I just worry about when people make posts about, for example, one of the main cast and an adult in the series, because the Keeper casts ages may closely reflect the actual ages of people in the fandom, we’re creating an unsafe environment and these posts may affect what these ‘kids’ think is okay in real life or for themselves.

Anyways, I wanted to share my thoughts but I really mean it when I say I want to hear your thoughts, I don’t think I know enough about the ‘issue’, especially from the other perspective.

(Also, this isn’t really about your call out post about call out posts, I’ve just seen you liking some pro shipper stuff so I thought you might be interested in that sort of thing)

Hi! Thank you for being respectful about this. First, I avoid labels like "anti" or "proship," as they tend to create an unhelpful us vs. them dichotomy. Especially when, like these terms, they have strong associations and generate strong reactions upfront. It's not, in my opinion, conducive to productive conversation

I believe that all fiction, including disgusting, depraved, uncomfortable fiction, should be allowed to exist without restriction. Whether that's incestuous, predatory, or otherwise.

We don't have to read/watch it. We don't have to like it. Or be comfortable with it. But it needs to be allowed to exist.

It's existence does not harm us (the most that happens is we realize, we are uncomfortable, and then we stop watching/reading/etc. and move on), and there is no way to reliably moderate fiction. It will always be arbitrary, and those arbitrary distinctions will always be enforced by the privileged with power, who will use it to create their narrative and silence others.

The issue many people get stuck on, like you, is about children. Now I'm not saying this is what you're doing, but I'd like to bring up the Think Of The Children logical fallacy. It's a more recent one, so it's less known, and I'm just linking the wikipedia.

What it does is switch to emotional thinking, creating this idea of these helpless little things in danger we need to protect. It creates moral panic, because what are you gonna do? Argue against the children? You monster! It can shut things down.

And while children are young and still learning and need guidance, they're also people. They have their own thoughts, reactions, and choices. They use their childhood to practice that, which is aided by fiction. Fiction is a practice run for the real thing; it can be that learning and guidance

Children take what they see in fiction, where no real people are hurt or in these scary situations, and react. They form opinions, determine what they think is right or wrong, and they have more room for error. For example, it is safer for them to misjudge an actually malicious adult in a story, learn what the warning signs were, and be more cautious going forward with no real life consequence than to make that mistake for the first time with a real person.

This is just a general overview. To specifically address this fandom and its ships, I'm going to start with this: when you were 14, did you think it was okay to date an adult? Did you ever see incestuous art/fic and start wondering if it was okay to date your sister?

Yes, consistent, repeated exposure of concepts from influential places can normalize them. Is that a genuine risk here, or what is happening? Have you seen it happen before on a wide enough scale to be generally applicable? I, of course, cannot speak for everyone, but I already knew those weren't okay by the time I joined the fandom at 13. Yes, 13 is young, but 13 year olds are capable of complex thought and reasoning. Their minds aren't going to be changed that easily, and a lot of them would probably resent the implication (even if unintentional, this is nothing against you) they couldn't figure it out for themselves. At least I would've

And more specific to keeper again: we have maybe a handful of these "weird" and "gross" ships/aus/etc. Posted by a number of people I could likely count on one hand, incredibly infrequently. This is a genuine invitation to think it through: what is that going to do?

Is that from enough places with enough power to normalize these ideas? Who is seeing it? How impressionable are they? Have they already formed ideas of right and wrong? Will this change that?

The conclusion I've come to is: 13 years old is young in the grand scheme of things, but at 13 years old you are capable of complex thought. I don't think the limited number of these "objectionable" topics and posters, which/who can be easily avoided, is going to normalize or make people think it's okay irl. It didn't happen with us, did it?

And I think, to some extent, limiting exposure or controlling media access takes away agency and choice, and that young people being able to experience difficult concepts in fiction before seeing them in real life is beneficial. This often then leads to "but what if they read something really icky they hate!" to which I say, kids aren't going to do things they don't want to. They won't watch movies, shows, or read books about things they're uncomfortable with or disinterested in. I simply put the book down and read something else.

And if they're being forced to, that's a different problem, and the solution is not to make sure the media doesn't exist or they can't access it.

This has been long, broad, sometimes specific, and more all in the attempt to be thorough. What it boils down to is: I don't think what you're worried about is going to happen, or is even slightly likely enough to genuinely plan for or worry about (not that you're unreasonable for worrying, though), and I don't think there's any trustworthy course of action that would separate the "good" from the "bad" and reliably, fairly decide who can see it and when.

I hope this helps answer your questions :). I'm happy to talk about it more, though I don't want to devolve into arguing, so if that starts to happen (with you or anyone else), I will likely end the conversation.

[the-caretakest-of-the-caretakers]

TOH Hunter headcanons (Golden Guard) (hurt/comfort and whump)

I made a list of my headcanons for Hunter in his Golden Guard era! I'm rather nervous about posting this-

I must warn, this account is focused on whump. Whump is a subgenre closely similar to hurt/comfort in which an author puts a fictional character through physical or psychological pain. Please, do not read if that could make you uncomfortable.

This list will contain mentions of:

Panic and anxiety attacks

Disordered eating

Physical injuries

Mild physical illness

Don't read under the cut if those matters are triggering to you.

- Hunter has nightmares about events he hasn't experienced per se, but that were experienced by previous grimwalkers in his position. Most of his nightmares involve Belos killing him, which amplifies his need to please the emperor in fear that his nightmares will become real.

- Hunter has some disordered thoughts when it comes to eating, since he's been taught that he needs to earn such a "luxury". He may have nutritional deficiencies due to this, such as anemia.

- On the same vein, it's likely that Hunter gets weird cravings often, both from anemia and from undereating. Occasionally he might even have binging episodes where he sneaks late at night into the kitchen and starts eating without others knowing, not even cooking the raw food.

- Flapjack acts like an emotional support animal to him. He follows Hunter everywhere and rests on his shoulder whenever he's tired, or if he needs comfort. Flapjack has also supported Hunter through panic and anxiety attacks, nuzzling into his chest.

- Wearing his Golden Guard armor aids him a lot when trying to show a calm facade, as he can hide his face, as well as limit the tremors when his body gets shaky. It gives him a sense of power and belonging as well. Therefore, he feels especially vulnerable when he's not in his armor.

- He suffers from Complex-PTSD. Sometimes, he gets emotional flashbacks that trigger anxiety and panic attacks. Hunter doesn't know what a panic attack is, but he's really ashamed of suffering from them. He just assumes it's a normal thing he has to learn to stop on command.

- Hunter is actually very emotionally sensitive. Since he was never allowed to show it, though, his body got subconsciously used to expressing his emotional stress through physical symptoms. Therefore, it's not unusual for him to feel "off" (with intense migraines, fatigue, stomachaches...) after an emotionally charged day.

- He snaps at people when they show concern for him, since he thinks he's being mocked or seen as incompetent. Other coven members never really showed concern, after all. The only person who has ever shown any sort of remote care for him before has been the emperor, and that kind of care was always conditional. Hunter feels like he has to prove his strength to everyone who tries to treat him like "someone" instead of "something".

- The Emperor's Coven had little-to-no actual medical assistance. The usual procedure for wounds was to bandage them without cleaning them beforehand. Hunter never questioned it. Most of his scars are from injuries that were never treated properly.

[romanticizingmurder]

One of the things that comes up a lot in meta on the vampire chronicles is trying to delineate between "this is being treated as a kink fantasy", "this is fictional trauma beinf sexualized", and "this is being treated like real trauma would be" and I think the interesting and almost unique to itself aspect of TVC is that...it's almost always all of the above.

I've been thinking about David and Lestat's respective turnings lately and what strikes me about both is how they don't really neatly line up into "portrayal of horrific trauma", "rape fantasy", or even "cnc fantasy" (hear me out, we'll get there), but are an uneasy mixture of all of them at the same time.

Disclaimer: I am going to be talking about rape in a fictional story both as a traumatic violence and as a fantasy. I am coming at this from the point of view of someone who enjoys kinks, including nonconsent in fiction, and who is a real life survivor.

Using David's turning because most of the discussion around it is neatly in the same one or two places, we see it treated as all of these things in turn.

Lestat undeniably rapes David. That is not only the implication from blood drinking as a metaphor for sexual desire, but explicitly the language used:

There are scenes of genuine anguish after the assault:

At the same time, the scene is, at least in my opinion, pretty sexualized! We linger in descriptions of David's body, of Lestat's pleasure in this monstrous deed.

And if this was all there was to it, I'd feel pretty comfortable putting this (and the many situations which mirror it in TVC) as a dead dove sort of situation. It's erotic horror, and this is both erotic and horrifying. What else did you expect?

And yet.

Let me make a relevant digression:

Up until 2012, when new research started coming out, the most popular theory for why rape fantasies are so prevalent among women was something called sexual blame avoidance. The idea being that women's sexuality and desires are so shamed by society as a whole that fantasies wherein they are forced allow them a guiltless way of experiencing desire.

This actually appears to not be the case for most people with these fantasies, but it certainly still is for many, and, possibly more relevantly: when these books were written, this would have been The theory on rape fantasies. That rape fantasies are a manifestation of desires that one feels ashamed of, so the fantasy of being forced removes one's agency and thus blame.

And here is David, having been raped by Lestat, saying he really did want it, he just couldn't allow himself to want it.

David had a desire he felt shame for desiring, and Lestat took away that shame by forcibly acting upon it.

It's easy to read this as simply rape apologism, and I can't stop anyone from reading it that way. And I don't and can't really know what Anne was thinking in this or in any number of other scenes that encompass erotica and horror and the comfort of fantasy all at once.

All I can do is say that the first thing I thought of when reading David's speech was how it felt directly lifted from any number of conversations I've had with other survivors on the appeal of cnc scenes. All I know is how I felt reading this and any number of other scenes in this series, which was: oh, finally someone understands what the fantasy is about.

But I think what trips people with that is that these stories aren't "just" short or erotica without weight. These are long stories with character development and emotional weight and real explorations of trauma. And I don't think that's inaccurate! I think they are that. I think these are, at least to me, also long explorations of kink fantasies and how the dynamics of those fantasies, removed from the need for consent and risk awareness of the real world.

Lestat can rape David and it can be something traumatic, something erotic, and something he ended up believing he wanted, because it's not one or the other in this universe. It can be an exporation of cycles of trauma, erotic horror, and long form kink fantasies written with real emotion, all at once. We don't have to choose just one - and I don't think Anne did, either.

[according2thelore]

Holy heck I found the mommy dean tag in your blog and immediately devoured everything under it 😭😭😭

Yall, I've been screaming mommy!Dean to the void ever since I got back into Supernatural, but my friends won't listen to meeeeee.

Dean does NOT slack off mommying! He did such a good job!!! Look at that 6'4 moose???!!!

Dean: *looks at 15yr 6 foot gangly Sam* Damn?! How'd the hell did you get so tall??? Who fed you??

Sam: "You?????"

My personal headcanons are

- That Dean totally has a stash of recipes that he made/collected over a period of time from cooking for Sam [like the exotic Mac & Cheese]

- That Dean had personally setup some sort of make shift bassinet in the impala just so that Sammy more comfortable

[lol ignore the glaring warning for vehicular safety (haha But would John care? Let's be real)]

The last head canon is from my actual childhood where (according to my grandmother) my older sisters tried to make the 7hr drive more comfortable for toddler me when we were running away from a bad home situation.

Urghhhh sorry for the rant, parentification of fictional older siblings are my absolute faves!!!!

hi, anon!!!

we ARE mommy friendly on this here blog--your friends don't see the vision, but we do, anon 🤝

Dean: *looks at 15yr 6 foot gangly Sam* Damn?! How'd the hell did you get so tall??? Who fed you??

Sam: "You?????"

AHAHAHAHA anon that sent me through the ceiling! and AGH! i totally love those headcanons! the bassinet 🥺🥺 that's so sweet that your sisters did that for you--what a beautiful thing!

i can 800% see dean making one! as long as it got sam to sleep and kept dean occupied (leaning over the bassinet every few minutes to make sure sam was still breathing okay), john would be fine with it, lol!

and you're totally right about the recipes--they start with his crazy, scraggly writing from when he was five (mic 2, 30 sekets, most of the letters are backward) and get more mature as he gets older, and the recipes get more complicated. they're on motel pads of paper and napkins and the backs of sun-faded receipts.

one of my personal headcanons is that the one school year sam did soccer (if you remember dean's nostalgic joy about it ("one of the only times you were allowed to be a real boy")), dean attended all of his practices. at first, it was so he could keep an eye on him, because he wasn't used to leaving him alone--and they were in town for a hunt, after all--then he told sam it was so he could hit on all the other soccer moms.

but they talked about local gossip ("did you hear about monica's husband? died on a hunting trip!") and kid-rearing tips ("we use gatorade when jeremy's sick because of the electrolytes" "vaporub will save you, but you can make some of your own using XYZ" "wait, you put WHAT in mac and cheese") and dean still uses the safety-pin-in-the-seam trick they taught him when he has to do a quick repair on his jacket.

you could always find a line of moms on the bleachers with their dye jobs and underlined eyes, and a fifteen year old dean, tobacco stained fingers and four layers of shirts.

dean cheers when sam makes a goal even in practice, and sam gets upset if dean is distracted and misses one. the moms all call him "dean's sam" and sam fuzzes warm and happy when dean leads him away with an arm across his shoulders because yes!! in fact, he is!!

no apologies AT ALL!!! i completely agree--parentification (esp dean's parentification) makes me bite straight through cardboard, lol!

PLEASE rant with me about mommy dean anytime you like!!!! i LIVE for it!!!

-lizzy

[darkfictionjude]

I'm, not necessarily baffled (as I can understand it), but surprised Imre and Nia believe the MC to be murderer. The reasons Lorcan may have to believe in MC's innocence are multiple, and it was always clear to me he believed MC wasn't responsible (otherwise I know Lorcan wouldn't be asking MC's aid to find Orla's necklace, Lorcan is not that twisted, lol).

As for Nia, I also get why she believes what she does. MC has motives, possible opportunities, and the means (if I recall correctly, Nia saw one of the episodes where MC "rages" or loses control). Believing in MC's innocence, even from a sense of loyalty to MC, feels foolish from her POV. It could also explain, as well as make me reconsider a lot of what I thought of her, the reasons why she behaves as she does with MC. It also does explain some of her reticence when it comes to the murder investigation the gang is doing (after all, a likely murderer is helping, or so Nia believes), as well as the possible gripes she may have on becoming closer to MC. Can she look past the murder? What does that mean for her? For her self, for her morals? Is it worth it at all to love MC?

As for Imre... Like, I understand him believing MC is a killer. This boy it's too inmersed on the world of rumors and lies to naively think MC is innocent. Especially when he does not have enough information on MC (as they were mere acquaintances, and technically they still are, but less so than back then).

But unlike Nia, that has a relationship with MC before the murder, Imre doesn't have another motivation that would push him towards loving MC freely over maintaining a distance from self preservation purposes. The only justification I can have is that Imre is intrigued by it, or, worse, he finds it hot somehow. And like, I understand that when the murders are fictional. But, Imre, luz de mis ojos, sol de mi vida, luna de mi cielo, amor de mi corazón, what the fuck is wrong with you? MC may be interesting, but you don't get involved with murderers unless you are okay with becoming a criminal yourself or allowing yourself to be at risk of being murdered.

Now, I'm not necessarily sure MC is innocent. I think they may be, more so because it would be very polemic of you to make MC a murderer when it's not a part of the premise of the story. Making him a suspect? That's all fine and dandy, but making him the culprit? Well, that has a lot of issues, at least for an IF. I'm not saying it's impossible to do it, but it probably wouldn't be well received by the readers (since we wouldn't have a choice on it, and even if MC is not a self insert, is a very major thing to force on players especially as a plot twist of sorts, if it was something known from the beginning there would be less of an issue). Personally I wouldn't care. However, I do think MC is most likely to be innocent than guilty.

That said, I was imagining a scenario in my head. Basically after everything was over and MC proved, even if he (my MC is male) wasn't intending in doing so, his innocence when it came to Orla's murder, Imre and MC have a conversation. In this conversation, which they have after feelings have been shared, Imre confesses he believed all this time MC had killed Orla.

Then, my MC would look at Imre in shock, then in horror. They had kissed, perhaps more, and Imre thought MC was a murderer. But instead of being offended, my MC would be angry because Imre put himself at risk unnecessarily. So, my MC would reprimand Imre about this, about how unsafe it was for him to romance MC. What if MC was a murderer? What then?

And so my MC speaks long and passionately about this. Very lovingly, yet irate. And Imre is just amused by the whole thing, and weirdly touched. Then he comforts MC and they make up this little discussion physically and passionately. After all, Imre may want to reward MC for being, uselessly, worried about him.

But maybe he would react differently, although I would have to refer to you if that's the case.

I like how you broke down the motives for the ROs to believe what they do haha 😭

The thing is and pardon my French I don’t give a shit what people would consider polemic. It’s my game and I’ve said that you the readers don’t know much about mc. A big thing about this game is surprises and twists, there are things you won’t see coming given the nature of mc being an unreliable narrator, that’s warning enough to tell the readers that they need to expect anything.

The thing with spoilers is that they’re not part of premises for a reason like mc being murderer would be a big spoiler I couldn’t put that in the master post. Like I’ve said that’s why I hope I don’t get people in my inbox saying “MY mc wouldn’t do this” because that’s not how I’m writing this. Otherwise if it bothers people that much what mc might have done or not they might need to find a game more suitable for them. I care about the readers but if I can’t make this story the way I envisioned than I see no point in writing it because I want to create something I’m proud of and inspired by

I do like how you’re lowkey scolding Imre though haha “Imre people who you think are murderers should not pique your interest!” 😭

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

Idk if you take requests but I was wondering about what thoughts you have on a whumpee who thought Wumper loved them, so when Caretaker finds whumpee beaten, they tell caretaker they thought wumper loved them, but they were terribly wrong

tw: abuse and manipulation (it’s all fictional but it can still be triggering so scroll past this if you’re not comfortable reading it.)

oh this is nice. I actually do love me some toxic angst trope where poor whumpee’s in a messed up relationship with their whumper (can be kind of like a Stockholm Syndrome situation / or a circumstance in which there’s this power imbalance at play; it’s actually a pretty interesting trope to write, I mean I personally enjoy writing it for sure). but I also love it when (or if) whumpee is rescued. the comfort that comes after is lovely too. but so is the struggle from both whumpee’s and caretaker’s ends, where whumpee is confused / scared and doesn’t know what to do or how to behave (because the very same thing whumpee does can result in a very different reaction depends on if it’s from caretaker or whumper; something that’s considered forbidden by whumper can earn a praise and an encouragement from caretaker. and it’s just so very confusing to our poor whumpee). and yeah caretaker is trying their best to help whumpee recover physically and mentally, but still they don’t know if their best if enough for whumpee. oh this is nice. very nice.

I take requests and I do enjoy writing them so bring it on :)

caretaker having to always reassure whumpee that no area in their house is off limits for them.

whumpee expecting a chain or some sorts of restraint around their ankle or their wrists — or even a cage — when it’s time for them to sleep. they are understandably very confused when caretaker softly carries them bridal style to their bed and says they are allowed to sleep on the bed with blankets and pillows. this never happens with whumper before, obviously.

whumpee only speaking when they’re spoken to. at first caretaker didn’t notice the pattern, but when they do they make sure whumpee knows that they don’t need a permission to speak. not anymore.

the same goes with food. whumpee could be starving to death and they wouldn’t touch any food unless they were given direct permission to. and no matter how many times caretaker (gently) tells them they don’t need a permission to eat, caretaker still has to tell (softly order) whumpee to eat every time, because that’s the only way whumpee will eat.

another thing: whumpee never looks caretaker (or anybody) in the eyes. caretaker is… working on this, but it’s a challenge, since in the past — when whumpee was still with whumper — whumper made sure to teach whumpee the consequences of looking them in the eyes instead of keeping their head down at all time.

whumpee being afraid of caretaker. they love caretaker (but they also loved whumper) but they’re still afraid of caretaker anyway. it’s nothing personal. it’s nothing caretaker said or did. it’s just that whumpee were taught to please and to be a ‘slave’ and one wrong move or one wrong word always resulted in a violent punishment from whumper in the past. thus it’s understandable why — given whumpee’s experience and what they went through — whumpee is always terrified that they’re going to do something wrong that will upset caretaker, and it will end in caretaker abandoning them.

surprise surprise, whumpee isn’t afraid of the thoughts of caretaker punishing them. they’re so used to torture as a punishment. what scares them to death is the thoughts of caretaker giving up on them and abandoning them.

because that was how it was with whumper; whumper would always tell caretaker that if they didn’t behave, whumper wouldn’t love them anymore.

and whumpee could endure pain and torture whumper inflicted. they couldn’t endure the thoughts of whumper stopping loving them.

they were indeed in a rough shape by the time caretaker managed to finally rescue them.

caretaker is concerned about whumpee; what if whumpee never emotionally recovers? but beyond that, caretaker kind of blame themself. it’s not their fault, but it’s also hard not to imagine, what if they did something more? what if there was something more they could have done in order to rescue whumpee faster? what if there was something they could have done to prevent whumpee from ever ending up with whumper in the first place?

there are a lot of What Ifs here and it’s hurting both caretaker and whumpee.

but the best caretaker can do now is be patient with caretaker. they cannot — will not — give up on them. even if whumpee never gets better.

“I always thought that was love, all the pain, the cruel words, the suffering. I thought it was because I deserved it, because they wanted me to be better so that they could love me more. I always thought they hit me because they wanted me to be better. and I tried. I tried to be better for them so that I was deserving of their love. was I being stupid?”

“no, you weren’t being stupid. you were hurt and they took advantages of that. I’m sorry I weren’t there. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you sooner.”

“it’s not your job to save me or to look after me.”

“I know, but I love you, and from now on, you will never have to be afraid of them anymore. I won’t let anyone hurt you anymore.”

**I know this isn’t exactly what you asked, anon (about caretaker finding whumpee beaten up), but I hope it’s still okay. but to answer your exact topic in which caretaker finds whumpee beaten up, I think it implies that that was the first time whumper hurt whumpee (clearly, there will most likely be a second time if whumpee isn’t removed from the relationship), but long story short, in that situation, I think it definitely involves not only tears from whumpee, but also whumpee’s bruised pride. you know, all these “how could I be so wrong?” “how could I not see the warning signs?” “how could I be so stupid?” it’s certainly messed up, and it’s in no way whumpee’s fault, but I think whumpee will still blame themself regardless.